My Life As A Maid
by ButterflyBabyBlue
Summary: Flaky signs up to work as a maid in a large house owned by a wealthy family living with his reclusive son, Flippy. She knows nothing of his split personality, his games, and his secrets. But she's about to find out. -CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN/EDITED.
1. Introductions

**My Life As A Maid**

The house was quite big. No, the house was huge. It stood in the centre of the large town, like a monument. Gardens surrounded it, a long path leading up to the front doors. Large and wooden, they stood polished and complete with doorknobs that looked to be made of gold. Ivy grew along the red-bricked walls, like endless towers of green rising up into the cloudy, blue sky. That was my first impression of the place.

I was dressed in my everyday clothes. And by clothes I meant third-hand rags from neighbours. I was wearing my long, scarlet-red hair down - another thing we lower-class people didn't do was tie our hair up, until the age of eighteen. So it hung loosely, swaying softly in the slight breeze. In the lower-class regions of the city, we didn't have much at all to brag about. So, standing in front of this grand house, with not a trace of dust visible, I felt like a piece of dirt on the ground.

I'd come here to work as a maid; I'd come to the age of fourteen, and like other people of my class, I was to go looking for a job. Most girls worked from the age of fourteen to eighteen, four years, before we started to make our own decisions and start a family.

Mother had died exactly two years ago and left me in our single-room house, which barely even passed for a house. We lived in a tiny bungalow, sharing whatever we had with a goat. I didn't know what to do; I sat with her for a day, singing to her until I was hoarse. Mother loved my singing; when she was sick, I'd sing to her for comfort, until she was well once more. Mother said my voice was magical, but if it was, then I could have saved her. I could have sung something for her before she slipped away into heaven. I'd tried singing her back but it didn't work.

Eventually, I'd realized I was starving. I hadn't eaten one bite since Mother died. I used what little skills she had taught me as a young girl and lived off whatever berries or roots I could find. In the depths of winter, I hunted small animals like squirrels or rabbits.

When I reached age fourteen I immediately began searching for work. And now here I was, about to start. I lifted a hand and pulled the string. I jumped at the booming sound of the bell. For one so small, it made a huge noise.

The door was answered by what must have been the family's butler. He stood far taller than me, with a sharp face and dull grey eyes. He looked at me over his nose; I was surprised he didn't just shut the door at the sight of a dirty, wide-eyed girl on his immaculate porch. He gave me a once-over and raised an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" his voice was raspy, but it held the familiar sense of authority.

"I-I'm Flaky," I stammered. "I-I came t-to work h-here."

He nodded, and then walked away briskly. He left the door open, but I didn't dare step inside. I did take a glimpse at the house, though, unable to help my curiosity. The tiles on the floor looked to be made of ice, crystal clear; I could see my reflection in the one nearest to me. There were large stairs that broke off in two different directions, covered with red velvet. Potted plants sat in the corners of the hall, and white wooden doors led off into different rooms.

I jumped when the butler spoke again; I hadn't even noticed him return. "You may come in and talk with our Master of House."

I nodded and followed him through red velvet corridors, walking on my tip-toes for fear I'd dirty the floor. We came to a pair of large doors at last. The butler pushed them open with a practiced manner, and gestured for me to go inside. I took three nervous steps forward, and found my eyes meeting those of a large man's. He was muscular, but seemed to be ageing. What was left of his brown hair was turning grey at the sides, almost the same shade as his eyes. He was seated at a large desk, lined with paperwork and other documents. He put down his pen when he noticed me.

"I assume you are to be the new maid," he said.

I nodded, and then thought better of it. "Y-Yes, sir."

"I see... Very well. We'll have to find something better for you to wear, I suppose. Your room is on the bottom floor; the basement laundry room. It's been cleared out, and we have a new one now, but the chute is still there. It's connected to Flippy's room; it used to be a washroom until he took it. So be careful not to make too much noise; he doesn't like to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," I replied, already wondering who Flippy was. By the sound of things, he was something of a recluse.

"Most likely he won't want to see you just yet," said the man. "But, I'm sure he will introduce himself soon enough. Now, tell me your name."

"Flaky, sir," I said.

"I see. And you are fourteen from what I hear."

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me, have you any talents? Anything you're good at, besides cleaning up?"

I hesitated a little before answering. "I... I sing, sir."

A smile touched his face, just a flicker of a smile. "And what kind of songs do you sing?"

"Um, I know... A-A lot of songs, sir."

He paused, raising an eyebrow. "You're one of those country muckers, then? If you know any songs at all you must be."

I was used to being addressed by this name, however rude it might have seemed to some. Lower-class citizens were simply known as muckers to other people, which made sense, since we were all small farmers living in lowland areas.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"One more thing," he said solemnly. "There is a door on the top floor of the house, on the left side of the area. It's quite old, and dusty, but you are not to clean there. Do you understand?"

It was an odd request, certainly, but I nodded my agreement. "I do, sir."

"Alright. Our butler will take you to your room. And remember - try to keep quiet."

"Y-Yes, sir."

I left the room and the butler showed me to my own one. It was pretty small, and dark. When I flicked on the light, there was a buzzing sound as the bulb flickered on and off repeatedly. After trying multiple times it stayed on,, and I was able to get a look at my surroundings.

My bed, complete with a white blanket and pillow on, was situated in the corner of the room. Deciding to investigate a little, I sat down to find it squeaked quite a bit. How on Earth would I manage to stay quiet down here? I noticed the laundry chute, on the wall across from me. Tempted, I made my way over and knelt at it–after a lot of careful footwork. Taking a quick look upwards, I nearly screamed when I saw two gold-yellow eyes staring back at me, narrow and alert. I could tell that the owner of those eyes was smiling, though - those eyes must belong to Flippy. They brightened suddenly, and I heard him ask, "Who are you, then?"

"Th-The new maid, sir," I answered.

"And I've been told that you're from the countryside? A mucker?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"What's your name, little maid?"

"F-Flaky, sir."

"Flaky. Hmm. Well, Flaky the maid, show me your hand, please."

I was a little confused as to why he'd want it, but I knew I had to obey a superior. I stuck my hand up the chute and splayed my fingers. Tears sprung to my eyes when my hand was slapped against the side of the chute. I took my hand out and held it to my chest, shaking with fright.

"Give me my toy back," Flippy called teasingly. "I'm barely even started yet."

I shut my eyes as I put my other hand in instead, trying not to shake. I couldn't think what I might have done to make Flippy want to hurt me like this. I'd only gotten here, and I'd made as little noise as was possible while looking around.

Flippy flicked my hand away, then pulled it back pinched hard. It was then that I began to cry, which only served to amuse Flippy. He laughed maliciously, and ordered me for my hand again. And again. And all the while he laughed and laughed while I knelt crying on the other end, confused and hurt.

"Let's try a new game," Flippy called after a while. "What do you think, little maid?"

I hated that I couldn't refuse, couldn't smack Flippy myself. So instead I choked out, "O-Okay... sir..."

"Good," he said contentedly, and I could hear him clapping his hands lightly. "How about a time trial game, then? Stick your hand back up there again for me, sweetheart. I promise that I won't slap you this time."

I shuddered at the nickname and slowly put my hand back. This time, he pinched me, and I held back a cry of pain. I pulled away but he didn't let go; he actually dug his nails harder before releasing my arm, knocking my arm to the side. I suppressed a whimper.

"That wasn't very impressive," he said. "Let's try again."

He took my hand again, pinching the skin tightly. I bit my lip, and squeezed my eyes shut tightly while he counted the seconds.

"One, two, three... You're doing well, sweetheart. Four, five."

I gasped, pulling my arm back again, and Flippy laughed delightedly. We played the time game again and again, and my arms were red, riddled with tiny little markings when Flippy finally stopped. When he dismissed me on the grounds that he was getting tired, I crawled back into bed and cried into my pillow, shaking and shuddering the whole night.

* * *

><p>The next morning I was woken up by the butler, telling me it was time to start. I was given a sweeping brush, a mop and bucket, and a scrubber. The butler told me to start from the bottom to the top. So I began, sweeping and cleaning for what must have been hours.<p>

I got a true fright at the top floor. I was walking up the stairs, and found none other than Flippy standing in the hall, his back to a door covered in dust. His eyes didn't seem to be the same gold-yellow as yesterday, they were less bright now, calm. I saw he had forest-green hair and fair skin. He was dressed casually, in a green checked shirt and black jeans. He was rather nice-looking, but at the time I was far too scared to notice. When he spoke, it wasn't in the same teasing voice as last night either.

"I'm sorry about last night, if you had trouble sleeping," he said gently. "The music I was playing was quite loud."

I paused, unsure of what to say. I didn't hear any music at all. After my horrifying encounter with Flippy, I'd gone straight to sleep, exhausted.

"I-It's okay. I didn't hear any."

Flippy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's strange... I thought you might have heard because of the laundry chute. Well, I'll see you some time soon, hopefully."

"Ah... yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir, please," Flippy said with a smile.

"O-Okay... um... Flippy," I said tentatively. "Anyways, I-I'd probably better get going, like you said..."

"Of course. I'll see you around, Flaky."

After running away from Flippy -quite literally- and eating my dinner in the kitchen, I went back to bed. I kept as quiet as possible, but thanks to being swallowed up by my own fear, I ended up tripping, falling to the floor with a thud and just managing to land on my hands and knees. Over the noise of my thundering heart, I heard Flippy sitting up and walking over to the chute. He laughed quietly, and my stomach lurched.

"Is that you, sweetheart?"


	2. More Games

**My Life as a Maid**

I froze at the sound of his voice. It had that dangerous tone to it; I could almost hear his laughter before it came. I stayed silent for a moment, which seemed to irritate him. When he spoke next, it was with a definite edge of impatience.

"I _said_: Is that you sweetheart?"

I knew I had to answer him, even if I didn't want to. "Y-Yes," I whispered.

"Excellent," he said. "Now tell me, how are your hands today? Still bruised and reddened?"

I looked at my arms and found that they were still dotted with little nail markings and small bruises . "Yes."

"Hmm. Show me them again, please."

I walked closer to the chute and offered my hand. I felt Flippy's icy-cold fingers on mine and shivered. That seemed to amuse him. He brushed the back of his fingers on my own, laughing at the effect it had.

"Your hands seem to be quite ticklish," said Flippy. "Am I right?"

"O-Of course," I stammered, "they a-are."

"Wonderful," replied Flippy. I could already tell he was going to do something I wouldn't like. He was silent for a minute, letting go of my hand. I thought he'd walked away and I breathed out, relaxing the tiniest bit. The moment of relief was interrupted when I heard Flippy walking back to the chute, humming to himself.

"I've thought of a game for you, sweetheart," he said. "Want to play?"

"O-Okay, then," I managed with a shudder.

"Good. Go on and put your hand back, please."

I did as he asked. I could almost envision his eyes on my hand, his teeth flashing as he grinned. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn't block out the noise of his voice.

"Now. Since your hands are so ticklish, the game we're going to play is a tickling game."

This confused me a little, to say the least. Flippy didn't seem like the type to tickle: at least, for now he didn't.

"A... A t-tickling game?" I asked him, to make sure.

"That is what I said, isn't it?" asked Flippy, although it seemed it was more a statement than a question.

"Y-Yes."

"Are you ready?" he asked. I felt something colder than his fingers running along my skin. I took a couple of seconds for me to realize it was the blade of a knife. I squeaked and foolishly moved to take my hand out, scraping it on the way. I looked in horror at the blood that dripped from my pale hand to the floor.

"Your hand, sweetheart," said Flippy, tapping his fingers against the inside of the chute."I'm waiting."

"P-Please," my voice was barely above a whisper. "D-Don't hurt m-me."

"Hurt you?" Flippy laughed; it sounded somewhat hysterical. "Hurt you? Nonsense, my dear, I wouldn't hurt a fly. The only people that I would _ever_ hurt are the people who spread news about me. I hurt people who need to be punished. But you won't tell about our games, will you? After all, they're so much fun. And if you tell, well, we can't play them anymore and most likely, you'll be sent away, and I'll be in trouble. You wouldn't want to be lose your job, would you? You being a mucker and all."

"I-I definitely wouldn't," I replied immediately, and it was the truth too.

"Look up the chute for me, sweetheart. Your eyes amuse me, so wide. Like the eyes of prey."

I stiffened at the last comment, but did what I was told. I looked up and met his gold-yellow eyes staring back at me.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you?" he asked. When I didn't move or say anything, he tried again. "I asked you a question."

"I-I don't know," I stuttered.

"Well, I say you are. And what's more is, you haven't left yet."

"Wh-What?"

"The other maids before you left me. They weren't any fun, though, not like _you_. One just kept whining and then told on me, so she was sent packing, of course. The next one was schizophrenic, I think, such a strange one. She brought a pickle with her, used to whisper to it, and I smashed it to pieces. That really set her off. So when you came, I didn't introduce myself right away, though now I see that you're excellent company. However, we'll have to get you a uniform, won't we? Get you out of those rags and make you more recognizable."

I didn't expect, or like, what he said next.

"Come up to my room, dear."

"I-I... What?"

"I'm beginning to believe you're deaf."

"N-No, I... I'll be up."

"I'll look forward to seeing you."

I left my room and climbed the stairs to Flippy's, a little way down the corridor. I was about to knock, but Flippy opened the door. My hand froze in mid-air, and I blushed scarlet red. Flippy had no shirt on. It was clear from his pale chest, toned and muscular, that he worked out. A lot.

"Flaky," he greeted me enthusiastically. "Do come in."

I nodded and took a step inside. Flippy's room was fairly average, but a lot more than I ever had. He had all the basics, a bed, chest of drawers, a wardrobe. The wardrobe, as I was soon to learn, was a walk-in. His duvet was of a khaki pattern, in various shades of green and brown. I noticed the laundry chute near the back of the room, and saw an armchair placed close by, and the knife lying at the square entrance. I shivered involuntarily.

"You really are a pretty one," he commented, his eyebrows raised. I blushed scarlet again.

"Th-Thank you..."

"I think your eyes are most fetching, however wide and panicked they are. You're quite thin, too. But, you pull it off well I suppose. Now, about your uniform."

Flippy walked over to the wardrobe, resting a hand on the doorknob. "Lets see..."

"I-It's really o-okay, I-I don't need one," I said, inching towards the door. Flippy grinned.

"It wasn't an offer," he said. "Of course you need a uniform. Don't you know all maids wear uniforms?"

Flippy laughed and walked over to place a hand on my shoulder. I suppressed a squeak. He steered me over to the wardrobe, throwing the doors open.

It was pretty big on the inside, in fact, it was about the size of my room. There were clothes lining all the walls, with shoes underneath. It amazed me, the amount of clothes he had. There were tons, some of them more formal than others, but I could only imagine him in his casuals from yesterday.

"Now, if I'm correct, your uniform is somewhere near the back. It's pretty basic, but you're nothing special, right?" Flippy laughed, and looked to me for an answer.

"I-I don't th-think so," I said.

"I'm joking. You're the new maid. Of course you're special." He picked up a small pile of clothes, returning to me. "And speaking of you, darling, you didn't clean my room today. You cleaned every other room down here and left mine. Is there a problem? Do I smell bad?"

"N-No!"

"Good," Flippy smiled. "Then would you mind cleaning my room from now on, sweetheart?"

"O-Of course," I replied.

"Then we're settled. Now, here's your uniform. You can put it on in there and see if it fits."

I took the small package of clothes from Flippy and he gestured to the wardrobe. I stepped inside and unfolded the clothes. My uniform consisted of a short-sleeved white shirt, a black skirt, black shoes, white knee-high socks and a red ribbon. Like Flippy had said, it was basic.

I put everything on and found myself left with the ribbon, unsure of where I was supposed to put it. I held onto it while I looked at myself in the mirror. The uniform fit okay, nothing was too big or too small. I figured the ribbon would normally be for hair but since I was lower-class, I wasn't exactly sure. As much as I hated myself for it, I decided to ask Flippy.

Flippy was lying on his bed, his arms folded behind his head. I stood there silently for a while just staring at him. I stepped outside, and he jumped. He had a shirt on now, another dark green one. He sat up and looked at me, both surprised and confused.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. I noticed again that his eyes were much calmer, the danger seemed to have vanished. "It's quite late, and..."

"I-I... You invited me here..." I trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"I did?"

"Yes, just a few m-moments ago..."

"Oh, I..." Flippy appeared to be searching through his memories for any mention of games. "I'm sorry, I must have gone blank. I don't remember inviting you up here."

"W-Well, at least I have my uniform n-now, I guess," I said with a hesitant smile.

"Ah, yes," he replied hastily. "It... It looks quite nice. Again, I'm sorry."

"I-It's okay, really," I said, backing up towards the door.

"...Okay then. Goodnight, Flaky."

"Goodnight."

I returned to my room and crawled into my bed. What was Flippy's problem? One minute he's torturing me through the laundry chute, and the next he was wondering why I was talking to him. To be honest, I wondered too. I knew Flippy was strange, but I had to do what he said.

"I'll sleep on it," I decided, and curled up in a tight little ball, forgetting to change out of my new uniform. The ribbon was wrapped around my thumb. I'd have to wait until tomorrow to figre out where it went. For now I just wanted to rest myself. I'm sure tomorrow there would be plenty more games to play with Flippy. So I shut my eyes and tried not to think about him and his crazy ideas.

I slept deeply.


	3. Best Friends

**My Life as a Maid**

I opened my eyes, blinked once or twice, and lay looking at the dirty grey ceiling for a couple of minutes, before getting out of bed. I stood up and looked at all the creases in my uniform, and then smiled at the ribbon still wrapped around my right thumb.

I opened my door and found the mop, brush and scrubber waiting for me outside. I'd made a plan in my head for cleaning the house yesterday: sweep first, scrub the banisters and clean the kitchens, then mop last, and then do anything else that needed to be fixed up. I started at the basement like usual. The basement was probably the smallest part of the house, but it was most likely the dirtiest part. That was the first thing I'd noticed.

In the basement, there was my room, the new laundry room, and the wine cellar. Out of these three rooms, the new laundry room was probably the cleanest. I hated going into the wine cellar, the smell of alcohol inside was overpowering. In fact it could be smelled outside the room. I'd hold my breath for as long as I could and clean as quickly as possible, wiping dust from the lids of the wine bottles and removing stains from the wooden shelves.

I got a bit of a shock this morning when I saw the Master of House near the back of the room, taking down a bottle of Chardonnay. He turned the bottle on its side, looking for the year. I stalled as long as possible, pretending to be dealing with a particularly difficult stain. But he turned around and saw me scrubbing at nothing like an idiot.

"I see you have your uniform, Flaky," he noted.

"Yes, sir," I said, turning around to face him and flicking a loose piece of hair behind my shoulder.

"The butler found it for you, then?"

I was about to open my mouth to say no, that Flippy did, but instead I just said, "Y-Yes, sir, he did."

He nodded. "So, are you liking this maid service, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good. We go through a lot of workers here but none have ever stayed with us for more than two weeks."

"Really, sir?" I asked, pretending I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Yes. We had two other girls in before you, recently enough, but they left. Something about having problems with Flippy. Anyways, they left and we haven't heard much about them since. I hope he's okay with you. He is, isn't he?"

"H-He... Yes, sir. Yes he's... fine."

The Master of House nodded again. "That's good. He's a strange boy, you know."

He invited me to walk with him back to his study. I was about to tell him I had work but he insisted, so I accompanied him to his study. Our walk was spent in silence, but I wasn't about to complain.

"Thank you," he said, when we stopped at the door.

"Yes, sir," I replied and left him. When I turned around, I was certain my heart skipped a beat. Flippy stood staring at me, his eyes locked on mine. His eyes were narrowed, and I couldn't tell if he was angry or confused. Silent moments ticked by, until he spoke.

"You were talking with my father?" he asked. He was gone psycho again. His voice seemed to lift a little when he was weird like this; it had more of an edge to it. And his eyes were brighter, alert and aware.

"Y-Yes," I replied, hoping someone would notice me and tell me to get back to work. But, besides the butler, there wasn't really anyone I could rely on.

"What did he say to you?"

"N-Nothing," I stammered, mentally smacking myself for saying something so stupid. I tried not to scream when Flippy grabbed me. He led me a little way from his father's study and pushed me against the wall, holding me in place with his strong hands on my trembling shoulders.

After a second, he smiled down at me in an almost friendly manner, and said, "I won't hurt you if you tell the truth. Just tell me what my father said, sweetheart."

"H-He asked me i-if I was f-finding things o-okay here," I told him. Flippy tensed up a little and pressed down a little more on my shoulders, inspecting me carefully.

"And what did you tell him?" he asked.

"I-I said I w-was. Th-that I was perfectly f-fine."

"You didn't tell him about our games?"

"N-No."

"Not _one_ word?"

"I-I swear."

Flippy relaxed then and let go of my shoulders, smiling once again. "Well, that's good. We wouldn't want you fired, am I right?"

"Y-Yes," I whispered. Flippy grinned and patted me on the head.

"Hm. I _really_ don't like it when people spread news about me, sweetheart. It usually ends up badly for them."

I tried not to whimper at that last remark. Flippy turned and took a step away, then turned back again.

"You're missing your ribbon," he said suddenly. I remembered the ribbon around my finger and untied it. Flippy stepped in front of me and took it. He moved my hair out of the way and laced it around my neck, tying it in a little bow at my collar bone. He watched me carefully for a moment, scrutinizing.

"You know," he said, pulling me a little closer with the ribbon, "they say that if you tie a ribbon around a cat's neck, you'll always know the cat's yours if you see it wandering about. I guess now I can't lose you, hm?"

I didn't know what to say in response, but Flippy had already turned around and was walking away. He looked at me over his shoulder and called, "I'll see you later, then."

After that, I ran downstairs to pick up my cleaning things and got working hard and fast. I needed something to stop my hands from shaking. I stopped outside Flippy's room, wondering if he was inside. I pushed open the door to find it empty. I breathed out, relieved. I scrubbed and polished his bed and drawers, then dusted off every surface in the room before mopping. Once, I saw the knife lying on the table. There was a drop of rusted blood there - my blood.

I passed the butler on the third floor; he looked at his watch when he saw me sweeping the floor. I pretended not to notice, although my flaming cheeks and paranoid expression gave me away.

"Are you alright?" he asked me.

"I-I'm fine, sir," I told him, nodding frantically.

"Let me know if something goes wrong, then."

"I will, sir," I assured him, and ran off.

I went to the kitchen to collect my dinner of mashed potatoes and carrots. To stall, I ate in the kitchen under the watchful eye of the chef. I noticed she coughed quite a bit, and that made me paranoid about eating my dinner. Half a plate of carrots and potatoes was dumped into the bin.

I walked as slowly as I could back to my room, wanting to savour the time I had before Flippy started playing games with me again. However, I started to worry about making him impatient, and walked faster. By the time I came to my room, I was running helter-skelter. I crashed into the door with a small bang. Luckily I had one hand out to stop me doing any damage to my head.

I stepped inside and sat down on my bed, about to change out of my uniform, when I heard noise from Flippy's room. Carefully, I stood up and listened. There was a groaning, a sort of animalistic snarl, and then silence. I was quick to move away from the chute when the noise of Flippy's footsteps came closer.

"You're back to me fairly late, sweetheart," he said. "Long day? Or maybe... You were hiding from me?"

"N-No," I stammered. "O-Of course n-not."

"I see. What should we play today, then, my dear?"

"I-I don't know," I said, cringing at the use of the word 'my'.

"Actually, I have a different idea," said Flippy. I held my breath. "You're from the countryside, right?"

"I-I am."

"So naturally, you can sing well."

"W-Well, I'm not v-very good," I told him.

"I won't hear it. Now, sing something for me. But wait; give me your hand first."

I sat at the bottom of the chute, and stuck my hand up for him. His hand met mine, and he held onto my shaking fingers lightly.

"Sing for me," he ordered.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and sang. I don't know what I sang at first, just la-ing notes up and down in a melody. I found singing for Flippy was a lot harder than singing to my Mother. Nevertheless, I did my best and kept singing for him, for fear of what would happen if I didn't. When I finished, Flippy breathed out contently.

"More," he ordered. "Sing more songs for me, sweetheart."

I sang him some old songs my Mother had taught me, songs of heartbreak and confusion, and songs for clear thoughts and happiness. Flippy kept asking for more and more songs, and I sang for him until I couldn't think of anything else, when I'd run out of songs and melodies.

"Beautiful," said Flippy when I'd finished. "I knew you could sing. Would that mean... You were lying to me?"

"N-No, of course n-not," I assured him hastily. "I-I just d-don't think I'm v-very good."

"I think you are," he said, gripping my hand a little tighter. "I think your voice is beautiful. You shouldn't be working as a maid here; you could be a professional singer, you know. But, then I'd have no company." He laughed. "So, you'll have to stay here, sweetheart, and sing songs for me instead. I'll be your audience. Now, I'll have to think of a quick game to play. It's getting late, isn't it? Almost midnight, you know. I'm almost sure you've been avoiding me. You just sit there and let me think for a minute, my dear."

I sat waiting for whatever he would think of, my hand still hanging limply in his. Flippy was humming, thinking. I didn't move, but I could still feel myself shaking. Finally, he spoke.

"I've thought of something, sweetheart. Want to hear about it?"

"Okay," I said.

"This game's a telling game. You can only tell the truth. If not, you get a punishment. But you're a good girl, aren't you sweetheart? You'll play fair."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Okay, then. I'll ask you the first question: What do you think about me, darling?"

I paused, my hand frozen in his. "I-I... You... W-Well, I think y-you're a... a nice person..."

"Are you sure?" Flippy asked in a sing-song voice. "It doesn't sound that way. Your hand is gone icy-cold, sweetheart. I think you're lying to me. And you know I don't like liars."

I bit my lip and shut my eyes tightly when he pinched me hard. I tasted blood on my lip and whimpered.

"Now, sweetheart," said Flippy. "Tell the truth like a good girl should."

"I... Y-You're a little s-scary, and your g-games are a little t-too much for m-me."

"Ah," said Flippy. "Now that is _definitely_ the truth. I can tell in the way you talk, the way you act around me, like your heart has stopped for just a second. It's amusing though. Second question, dear: are we friends? Best friends?"

I could feel my lower lip shaking rapidly. I certainly wouldn't consider Flippy a friend, not willingly but he seemed quite expectant. So I said, "Y-Yes, we're f-friends."

"_Best_ friends?" asked Flippy.

I nodded as a tear ran down my face. "Best friends."


	4. Strange Encounters

**My Life As A Maid**

"Flaky," called a voice. I rubbed my eyes and looked over my covers at the door. Slowly, I got up and opened my door, met by the butler. He nodded slightly before speaking again, the way I'd seen him do before.

"Our chef, Madame Talbot, has fallen ill," the butler told me. "She has a head cold and told us she'll be out for today. While she is sick, you will have to fill in for her. I trust that you can cook, you being a housekeeper."

"I can, sir," I assured him, too afraid to mention that I was a maid, not a housekeeper.

"Good. Breakfast usually starts at nine, so half an hour should be enough time to prepare a breakfast. You've proved to be an excellent maid so far. Don't let us down now."

"I won't, sir."

He left me to get changed, and I made my way into the kitchen. It was an average-sized, grey room full of pots, pans and the smell of lemon scented cleaning chemicals. I went from cupboard to cupboard, checking what kind of food or spices were in each one. When I'd sorted out everything I got out the toaster and popped four slices of bread in, setting it on timer. While I was waiting I filled two bowls with corn flakes and poured milk over them, sticking a spoon into each bowl. I smacked my forehead and took the spoons out. The cutlery had to be laid out on the table.

The toaster dinged, and I scooped up the toast, placing two slices on each place. I went to get butter, and then realized I had no idea what to put on the toast. Jam? Marmalade? I got out six of the smallest bowls I could find and placed a bit of jam, marmalade and butter in each one. I smiled proudly, and then ran out with spoons and knives. I even brought forks just to be sure.

The dining hall was a large room with a mahogany table in the centre. The windows were tall, the red velvet cushions drawn over them, blocking out any slight hint of daylight. Looking at the curtains locking the light made me feel like a trapped animal. It made me miss the outdoors, miss my old home, it made me miss my Mother more than ever.

I shook myself and moved back to the table. I jumped when I heard someone walk inside. It was Flippy, dressed in a green shirt and faded blue jeans. His hair was a mess, loose bangs falling over his pale face. His eyes were sleepy; he rubbed them with his arm before catching my eye.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I-I'm filling in f-for the cook," I told him.

"I see. You made breakfast, then?"

"Y-Yes, it's ready."

"Excellent." Flippy smiled. "I'm sure you're a wonderful chef."

"W-Well, I don't know." I could only cook the basic things, and the recipes my Mother had taught me when I was a little girl. I wasn't a professional. But I could make food good enough for this family. Hopefully.

"My father will be down in a couple of minutes. I usually arrive before him. So... Um... How are you finding things here?"

"Everything is fine," I said. "You have a lovely house."

"I guess you could say that," Flippy said with a laugh.

"Good morning Flippy, Flaky."

I jumped at the sound of Flippy's father's voice. He walked inside, and made his way to the head of the table. Flippy smiled at me and shrugged, . I ran back to the kitchen and scooped up everything, balancing them carefully on my arms. I walked as quickly as possible back to the dining hall and placed the toast and cereal first in front of Flippy's father, and then moved to Flippy.

I put the toast in front of him, and then the cereal. I watched his expression change as he lifted the knife. For a split second, his eyes grew bright and excited. But only for a fraction of a second, then he resumed spreading butter on the toast. I bid them good-bye and left them to eat.

Only on my way back to the kitchen did I realize I had to eat too. I poured a bowl of corn flakes for myself and ate them quickly. I walked back to my room in a trance-like way, taking my time. It felt a little strange to not have any cleaning to do, but it gave me time to relax a little and think. I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

It struck me that I hadn't had a full night's sleep since I'd arrived here. I closed my eyes, and tried to slow my breathing down, in and out gently. I could still feel though. I could still smell and hear the things around the house. When people are really asleep, it's like they've disappeared from the Earth. Not quite dead, but just not there. I remember Mother telling me that once. I never doubted her words.

"Flaky."

I sat up when I heard the butler. I opened the door and stood there looking like a fool. I'm pretty sure I was blushing too. He obviously thought I'd been slacking off on the job.

"You'll be making lunch in a couple of minutes. Today's lunch is salad. It's simple enough so I trust you won't fail us."

"No, sir."

"You should be finished by one, then."

"Yes, sir."

I returned to the dull, gray kitchen and got out all the things I'd need for a decent salad. My hand became lost in the process of cutting and putting aside, it was like it was on repeat, just going over and over in the same pattern. I put in cucumber, lettuce leaves, grated cheese, some radish, beetroot and coleslaw. My Mother had used a sort of dressing in her salad that was lovely, but she'd never shown me how to make it. So my salad went plain.

I returned to the dining room and laid out the cutlery once more. I was sure to be quick; I didn't want to run into Flippy again. I ran back for the salad, which I'd arranged neatly on two plates, and brought it back to the table at two minutes to one.

"Oh hello, Flaky."

I paused to glance over my shoulder. Flippy was at the doorway, smiling. I waved quickly, flashed a smile at him and ran back to the kitchen like a fool. Flippy looked after me with a long, unmoving stare. I buried myself in dishes, scrubbing until my hands felt like they were never part of me. I put everything back and then scuttled away to my room.

A couple of hours later, after singing quietly to myself, the butler was back to remind me it was coming up to dinner. Today's dinner was a roast, something I had never been lucky enough to try, but lucky enough to have seen it being made.

I washed my hands and prepared the meat, cutting up baby carrots and mixing in peas and sweet-corn. Mother had always told me that mixed vegetables were one of the healthiest things you could get. Like said, I've never doubted her.

I mashed potatoes until they were a creamy white mixture. I remembered Mother had always added milk and butter to them to make them taste nicer, so I did the same. The only difference was that I wasn't using fresh goat milk, I was using store-bought packaged milk. Still, it was all I could do.

I brought the cutlery out first, and then the dinner. It was a little too early, it was still five minutes before Flippy or his father would arrive. I didn't really take notice of the time, though. I laid out the food and was gone in a flash. A few minutes later I heard footsteps, and the sound of conversation. I washed the dishes and left them.

I was walking back to my room when I heard the sound of a door swinging shut. At 7:30pm, I didn't expect anyone to be visiting the house. To be honest I didn't expect anyone to visit the house at all. I turned back and looked around the corner at the front door.

A broad woman in a long coat stood panting in the doorway, her large cheeks bright red like her hair, which was done up in a neat bun. Her eyes were the colour of a miserable day, and she looked me over with them when she saw me.

"You been fillin' in for me?" she asked. She hadn't an accent but I couldn't tell where from. Her voice was booming and loud, and it rattled my bones.

"Y-Yes, miss."

"Been feedin' 'em country food then, huh?"

"N-No, miss."

"Don't lie to me, girl," she warned, standing tall over me. Her eyes burned, and I knew she must have been a proud chef. She looked about to insult me further but she choked on her words. Her eyes bulged a little and swivelled around. I was looking around too, for whatever had stopped her. I didn't want to step behind her, I had a feeling someone or something was waiting there. Then I heard his voice.

"Her cooking was excellent, you pig," said Flippy. He poked his head over her shoulder and gripped her coat tighter, eyes bright and dangerous.

"And I would strongly appreciate it if you didn't insult her like that," he continued. Madame Talbot nodded rapidly, and Flippy let her go. She hurried away in the opposite direction. Flippy and I stood looking after her. After a while, Flippy turned around and began to walk back to his bedroom.

"Th-Thank you," I stammered. He brushed past me without a word, his arm bumping against mine. I stayed still for a while before returning to my room in silence.

There were no games that night.


	5. A Surprise

**My Life as a Maid**

**A.N. Updates have been slow lately... I'm sorry. But it's summer and I do have other things to do besides write! (Yes, really.) Anyway, here is Chapter 5 for you all.**

This morning I was almost surprised to find the sweeping brush and other cleaning things at the door. I was still thinking like a chef, but now Madame Talbot was well again so I could get back to doing my normal work. I got started with the basement and repeated the same process I did every morning.

In the house, the kitchen is on the ground floor quite close to the stairs. The staircase and kitchen are separated by a couple of rooms in between. I cleaned along the corridor and went back up again with the duster for good measure. I started up the stairs, dusting the velvet and polishing the wooden banister.

I looked up in a mixture of surprise and fear at Madame Talbot. She was making her way downstairs towards me, and she didn't look to be in the best of moods. She looked down at me hard and I found myself suddenly becoming very interested in my feet. I didn't want to look at her; it would only cause trouble anyway. After seeing Flippy last night I wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to stick up for me again. At least, not in that way.

I passed by her, and let out a little squeak of surprise when I fell face-forward onto the stair a bit above me. I blinked at the red velvet surface once or twice, before sitting up and rubbing my face lightly. Madame Talbot said nothing, just moved her foot away as I began to gather up my things again.

I was annoyed at myself for letting her trip me up, but there really was nothing I could do being a mucker. So, I just kept going as if nothing had happened, dust, polish, and repeat. In a way, I felt like I was a robot. I was moving like one, acting like one too. Like I was afraid to show any emotion. In fact, I think I was afraid to. I really needed to sort out my feelings.

The butler gave me an odd look as I passed by, but I took no notice of it. I was pretty used to people looking at me in a confused manner. Not just here, from the butler and other members of the house, but from when I was young. I was always the victim of bullying. I remembered two twins, each was exactly identical. The only way of telling them apart was the fedora that one wore. They had similar names too. Lifty... and Shifty, I think. They had great fun calling me names, although I'll admit: their teasing and name-calling weren't nearly as bad as Flippy's horrific games.

The thought of Flippy brought me back to last night. Every night he'd played a game, but last night there was nothing. He didn't say anything either. Part of me was thankful for this; it didn't leave me with an hour's sleep for the next morning. But another small part of me almost, in a way, missed the games. I shook my head furiously and told myself to get on with my work.

_Forget about Flippy_, I thought to myself. _Forget about him and concentrate!_

I reached the top floor and continued scrubbing and sweeping. The house was strangely quiet. It was always quiet, but there was always something to be heard, be it me, or the butler walking from room to room. It was nice, but it was unusual too. I stood up straighter and dropped the arm that was holding the can of polish. I took a look around at the hall when something caught my eye. I dropped the can of polish. It hit the ground with a clatter, and slid halfway down the stairs.

Flippy turned away from the window and looked over his shoulder at me. I stayed perfectly still, watching his eyes. If possible, I tensed up even more. Flippy smiled and faced me fully. He leaned against the windowsill behind him, his hands in the pockets of his black denims. I saw he had no shoes or socks on. He wore a green, tight-fitting shirt that showed the muscles in his arms. The sun shone down on him, making him look more like a God. His forest green hair seemed lighter in the pale light, but it just made his eyes look brighter and brighter, which frightened me most.

"Well hello, sweetheart," he greeted me, walking over. I stayed still, and he grinned.

"What's wrong with you? Did I say something insulting?"

"N-No," I stuttered, fixing my gaze on his feet. "Of c-course not."

"That's a relief. It wouldn't be any good if you were scared of your best friend, would it?"

"...I-It wouldn't."

Flippy stepped even closer, frighteningly close. He flashed his teeth again. "You still seem scared to me, sweetheart. Lift your chin up. Be brave!"

I felt the colour drain from my face when he placed two fingers under my chin. He tilted my face up so I was looking him in the eye. My chocolate-brown circles stared into his unnerving amber-gold orbs. Flippy lifted his other hand and ran his fingers along the material of my little ribbon. Despite the fact that my nerves were practically disappearing, I kept my eyes on him. Flippy raised an eyebrow.

"You're doing well," he laughed quietly. "The others didn't last a second. In fact, the one with the pickle ran away crying. Now that was funny. I haven't seen you cry. I don't think so anyway. I've heard you, yes. But I've never seen you cry. What would make you cry, hm?"

"A-Anything," I stammered, trying to keep my eyes from moving away. I flushed red at having said that.

"Hm. We'll have to give you a tester. I have a question though: If I kissed you, would you be fired? I'm pretty sure that would get you crying. Then again, there's only me to tell my father and he'd never believe me. Most girls don't go for my type. What do _you_ think? Do you like my type?"

His question made my knees shake; I did my best to stay steady and failed. My knees buckled underneath me and I dropped a little way to the ground. I suppressed a whimper when I felt Flippy catch my shoulder and steady me. He moved his hand away, and replaced it at my waist. I shivered.

"You okay there?" Flippy asked. "You're looking a little pale." He laughed again.

"I-I... I..."

My eyebrows shot upwards, and my eyes widened when he placed his hand on my cheek, and his lips on mine. I'd expected them to be hard, but they were soft and gentle. His eyes were closed; his expression was calmer than usual. In this way, he seemed almost normal. But only in appearance.

He moved his hand from my waist and ran it over my hair. He took his hand away and breathed in deeply, moving away. His fingers were still holding on lightly to a strand of my hair. He ran them along the length and then let go. Time seemed to stand still between us. We stared at each other in silence, each contemplating what had happened. I felt shocked, while Flippy seemed to feel that he'd achieved something, accomplished some goal.

After what felt like hours, he walked by me. On his way he patted my head gently and said, "Thanks for that, dear."

He walked downstairs without a word or a glance back. I stood at the top of the stairs, struggling to steady my breathing. I felt as if I couldn't tell the difference between imagination and reality, I was so dazed. I was on the edge of both, not sure where to go. I closed my eyes and stood still for ten seconds like Mother used to make me. I breathed in deeply and thought of her. Immediately, I felt myself calming down.

"Finish up here and then you're done for today," I reminded myself.

I made it to my room in a daze. I felt around for the light switch and started to get changed. I listened for Flippy, but I couldn't hear anything. I sat down on my bed and started to sing subconsciously.

_"Starting to drift, starting to wander,_

_Feeling myself slowly growing less fonder..."_

I took a breath to sing the next line, but I was joined by another soft voice. Coming from the laundry chute.

_"Of all of the nightmares surrounding me here,_

_Feeling myself being enveloped in fear."_

I stood up and found myself smiling. I walked slowly over to the laundry chute and sat down at the bottom.

"Y-You have a n-nice voice, Flippy," I said nervously. He laughed.

"I disagree. Your voice is the best I've ever heard."

"Th-Thank you but.. no."

We froze at a noise from outside. A loud bang, and the sound of something wailing in pain. I took a peek up the laundry chute. From what I could see, Flippy was standing up. I waited a minute, and when he still didn't relax, I asked, "I-Is everything o-okay?"

Flippy turned and sat down again. He looked at me, and I could see he was smiling. "Father is having another late-night hunt. You'll get used to them."

I hadn't been paying attention to what he was saying, just hearing it. I knew that tone of voice, and at a second glance I knew Flippy was gone psych-mode again.

"I'm feeling kind of tired, so I'll give you a choice between pinches, slaps, or being tickled. Which one do you want?"

I suppressed a shaky breath. I thought about which game was easiest to play. Or in my situation, which game hurt less. I had a choice of being tickled with his knife, or having my hand slapped, or pinched.

"Th-The game where y-you slap m-my hand," I told him.

"An excellent choice," said Flippy. "Well, you know the rules."

I placed my hand inside the laundry chute and closed my eyes tightly. He smacked my hand against the side and I whimpered.

"Having fun so far, darling? Don't worry. I'm just getting started. I might have kissed you earlier but there's no end to the fun of my games. Just wait until I get some new ideas, sweetheart. Now, your other hand, if you don't mind."

**A.N. Yeah, bit of a short chapter. But, I have a headache and I am tired! And before anyone goes all copyright with the song, I made it up, okay?**


	6. Eavesdropping

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Ah, it's been a while. I think. But I'm here now! ^^ So, this is Chapter 6! I hope you all enjoy it, as usual! And sorry for the slow updates lately.**

I awoke to find myself on my stomach. A sharp pain seared through my hands, and I was quick to get up. I'd been lying on them, and they were in worse condition now than they were last night. Flippy's game had ended around 2:00am, when he decided it was getting late. I remembered he said: "Time's running out for me now, sweetheart. It's getting late, and we both need our sleep, right?"

The fact that he mentioned he was running out of time bothered me. It was probably nothing, but I wondered about it. Whatever it meant, I was still grateful that it was an excuse for him to leave.

I got changed into my work clothes and made my bed. When I opened the door, none of the cleaning equipment was there. I looked to both sides, to see if they'd been misplaced. They were nowhere to be seen. I sighed and put a hand on my hip, wondering if the butler had forgotten. I explored the basement first, and then decided that finding the butler would probably be the most sensible thing to do.

I found him bustling around with two large packages on the second floor. He caught sight of me and put down the packages, rushing over.

"Flaky, I'm sorry," he said. "I should have told you earlier. The Master of House is holding a party this evening. It starts at eight sharp. You'll be acting as a sort of waitress for the night. We'll have to find something more decent to wear for you, I suppose. Ah, I know. The old things are usually thrown into Flippy's wardrobe since there's more room. You can go and ask him for something to wear."

He rushed off, leaving me standing like an idiot. Going to Flippy was the last thing I wanted to do. But I didn't really have a choice. I walked down stairs to Flippy's room, arriving at the wooden door. I lifted my hand to knock the door, and looked around the corridor. There wasn't any way I could stall. I knocked twice, quietly.

Flippy opened the door, dressed in a light green shirt and khaki bottoms. His feet, again, were bare and his hair was everywhere. He smiled when he saw me.

"Hi, Flaky," he greeted me, gesturing inside with a wave of his hand. I walked inside, and looked around at the room. It seemed different to when I'd last been there. For one thing, the knife was gone. The room seemed to be brighter, although I could see the curtains were still drawn. There was something about it that looked less sinister today.

"Is everything all right?" asked Flippy.

"O-Oh, yes," I assured him. "I-I just need something t-to wear for to-tonight."

"Ah, yes. The evening party. There's some leftover things in my wardrobe. You can take whichever one you like."

I walked into the wardrobe and he pointed to the back. There were four dresses to pick from. One was a long, low-back pink. The other was a lilac mini with a white trim. Another one was a long, elegant pale green. The last one was a red silk one-shoulder, with a black waistband. It seemed to be the right one for me. I found a spare corner in the back of the room. I excused myself and shut the door.

The dress was a perfect fit. I did a little twirl in it, smiling, and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't beautiful, but I wasn't ugly either. I was just me. Big brown eyes, long red hair and a timid, pale face. I was fairly thin thanks to my upbringing, but I wasn't unhealthily thin. Wearing the dress made me feel a little taller, but in reality I was quite small.

I had never gone to any type of party before, unless you included my birthday parties, which would just mean I got extra milk at dinner time. I remember as children, Petunia and I used to sneak into the gardens of rich people and look through the windows, at the stunning dresses and mountains of food. It never failed to amaze us.

I sighed regretfully as I remembered Petunia. Her family wasn't exactly rich, but she wasn't poor either. Nevertheless, she had played with me every day until my Mother died. I remembered Petunia had the most beautiful blue hair, always pinned back with a pink flower clip. She had blue eyes too, crystal clear and shining. She wore lovely clothes, denim dungaree-dresses over white long-sleeves. Blue frilled shirts and pleated skirts. I missed her.

I opened the door, and blushed when Flippy did a double-take. I pushed a loose strand of my hair behind my ear self-consciously. Flippy was dressed in a green shirt, dark green tie, black waistcoat, black jacket and matching trousers.

"Wow," he said to me. "You look... Beautiful."

"Th-Thank you," I replied, feeling my face going red. "Y-You look well t-too."

"Ha, thanks," he laughed.

"Well," I said, starting to feel more awkward. "I'd... better be g-going, then."

"Oh, okay," said Flippy, looking a little disappointed. "I'll see you out."

He walked me to the door, and I politely waved good-bye. As soon as I heard the door swing shut I started power walking. I liked Flippy when he was... normal. But even then I still felt paranoid around him. Every movement would make me jump. Every word was noted. I felt like the worst person in the world for being like that. Maybe I was.

I passed the butler on my way down the corridor. His grey suit had been replaced by a blinding white suit, making his ageing hair look duller than it was. He stopped me when I passed by.

"Flaky, perfect. I suppose I should tell you what you've to do tonight," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"You won't be cleaning and stuff tonight. Instead you'll be acting as a sort of waitress, serving food, helping guests if they need anything. It should be simple, so do your best. You're to be at the kitchen at seven fifteen. I trust you won't disappoint."

"No, sir."

"Very well then. I'll be on my way."

I arrived back at my room to find I had nothing to do. I sat for a couple of minutes in silence. I looked blankly at the walls, at the door. I looked at my uniform and chest of drawers, which had been empty since I'd arrived here. I decided I should take a shower, so I got up and went to Flippy's father's office.

I knocked three times on the large door. After a few seconds, Flippy's father said, "Enter."

I took a step inside and Flippy's father sat up straight. "Hello, Flaky. What brings you here?"

"Please, can I have a shower, sir?"

"A shower? Yes, you can. Is that all?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay then. You are dismissed."

I nodded and left for the bathroom. It was annoying having to ask for a shower, but at least I wasn't washing myself in a stream behind a tree. Back at home I used to drape my clothes over the branches to hide most of myself while I washed. At least here I had a locked door and warm water. Even so, it made me miss home more. I shook myself and got washed. When I'd first had a shower I'd been surprised they had girl's shampoo and conditioner. But I knew the reason why after Flippy had explained about the two previous maid.

I found myself thinking about who the two girls were, if I had known them beforehand. I wondered if Flippy had kissed them too. I blushed just thinking about it. Even so, I couldn't shake the thought out of my head. I imagined them in my head. Both were pretty, wearing the uniform I'd worn. I wondered if they were pretty in real life too. Prettier than me, most likely.

When I was done I wrapped a towel around my body, and another one around my hair. I dried my feet and put on my shoes for good measure. When I returned to my room, I got changed into my old clothes, the rags. I didn't want to be sitting around with the dress on.

I shook my hair out and let it dry on its own. I got rid of a couple of little pieces of dandruff. It had been with me practically all my life. Mother had tried to scrub it out, but it stuck with me. She once said it was funny how she'd named me Flaky, only to have me get dandruff. She said she'd cursed me. But I never believed that. I didn't believe my Mother could curse me.

I lay around like this until I had to pick up my dinner. It was only a small one, since the party was a couple of hours later. I swept into the kitchen, keeping away from Madame Talbot's watchful eye. Quickly, I scooped up the plate and was gone.

At 6:30pm, I heard Flippy walking around upstairs. I moved over on my bed and listened, holding my breath.

"Go away!" Flippy was saying. "Leave me alone!"

I wondered if his father was up there, or the butler. But I didn't hear anyone else. I listened closer.

"Get out of my head!" Flippy said. He was practically begging now. "Leave me alone, please!"

There was a pause and I heard Flippy breathe in shakily. "Leave her alone. You monster! Don't touch her!"

I frowned in worry. Leave her alone? I glued myself to the laundry chute.

"No... No! Don't..."

There was a snarl, followed shortly by triumphant laughter. I sat shaking at the end of the laundry chute, paralyzed with fear. I looked up and saw Flippy standing close to the chute. I jumped back when he turned around. The sound of Flippy's voice only made me shake more.

"Were you eavesdropping, sweetheart?" he asked. When I didn't answer he said, "I know you're there. Answer my question."

"I-I wasn't e-eavesdropping."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Y-Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise?"

"P-Promise."

"Give me your hand."

I did as he asked. Flippy linked our little fingers together and shook them twice.

"Now, if you've been lying, you'll regret it," said Flippy. "I look forward to seeing you at the party, then."

"Th-The pleasure is a-all mine."

**A.N. Yeah, awful ending, I know. But Microsoft Word was freezing up and restarting all over the place :( Anyway, until next time!**


	7. May I Have This Dance?

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Here we are at Chapter 7! I hope that you like it lots, etc, etc. I'm sorry my updates on this story are so slow ^^" I hope it's worth the wait! I do my best! XD**

"Flaky! Hurry up! I gave you the orders for two tables and you haven't delivered one!" Madame Talbot bellowed. I sighed and picked up the bowls of soup waiting on the kitchen counter. Madame Talbot was exaggerating, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I had been running around from the kitchen to the dining room for the last fifteen minutes. The first guests had arrived about two minutes ago, and Madame Talbot was keen to have the food served quickly.

I placed them on the table, and nearly jumped at a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a tall girl about a year or two older than me. She had sky blue, friendly eyes. Unlike me, she wore her fair pink hair down, it brushed her shoulder. Most of it was pinned back with a rather large red ribbon. She wore a glittering pink gown that brushed her ankle. I saw that the reason for her height was because of the strappy pink high heels she was wearing.

"Hello," she said, offering her hand. I took it shakily. I'd never had any higher-class people besides Flippy shake my hand.

"I'm Giggles," she continued. "Are you the new maid here?"

"Yes," I said.

"So you took my place, then," Giggles said with a soft smile.

"Your place?" I asked. "You worked here?"

"Yes. I think I stayed for almost a week. Now that I think of it, I probably did well."

"How did you..?"

"Get a position as a maid?" Giggles finished for me.

"Yes."

"I was actually sent to work here as a punishment. My father is that guy over there. See him?"

She pointed to a man in a pinstripe suit with ginger hair and grey-blue eyes.

"He owns a fish company. It's pretty boring. Anyway, I threw a tantrum, something about never getting my own way. So my father said he'd show me what a lower-class person lived like. He found the advert and sent me to work there as a punishment.

"Anyway," Giggles lowered her voice and her eyes took on a worried look. "When I first rang my father and told him about the 'games,' he didn't believe me. But when I kept ringing and ringing, he came to see what it was about. I was taken home the next morning.

"There was a maid sent in after me, too," said Giggles. "I'd seen her around before, and I was watching her leave her home."

"She was a schizophrenic, wasn't she?" I asked. I remembered Flippy had said something to me about her as well.

"Yes, she carried around a pickle. She'd whisper to it as if it understood her."

"And... Flippy. He crushed it."

"So he told you too?"

"Yes."

"Does he play games with you?" Giggles looked around to make sure no one had heard her, and turned back to me.

"Yes," I replied. "He does."

"Flaky! Get moving!"

Giggles and I jumped at the sound of Madame Talbot's voice. I nodded politely to Giggles and ran to collect the soup.

Afterwards, when I was done running around with my arms full of plates and bowls, the party had settled down moderately. I hadn't gotten a chance to speak more with Giggles, and Flippy hadn't approached me, thankfully. Giggles was sitting with her father and her mother, a kind-looking woman with pink hair like Giggles, only longer. I stood at the wall, watching to see if anyone spilled something, or needed help. Flippy was sitting at the main table, eating with his father.

He looked up when a tall, thin man in an extremely tight suit got up onto the makeshift stage near the front of the room. He produced a violin from behind him, and a bow. He played a few notes, and then gradually started playing a melody. His companion, a short, broad man in a similar suit, jumped up beside him and, as if by magic, produced a guitar and began strumming along. Yet another man, of average build and a puffy red face, joined them on stage. He moved to the back, and I saw there was a piano near the wall. The man sat down and joined in with the other two, counting the time with his foot.

The guests applauded them, and I saw the butler enter, dressed in his white suit. He called for attention, and blushed a little when everyone turned in their seats to look at him.

"May I ask you all to kindly move to the living room for… two minutes minimum?" he asked.

The crowd stood, some taking their glasses of wine with them, and moved out of the kitchen. The butler waved me over, and I moved swiftly through the crowd to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like you to help move the tables, if you're able."

"Of course sir."

I did my best not to catch Madame Talbot's eye as she joined us, pushing the tables around. We moved them further back, to the side, moved some back again. Four corners were marked; the tables were to be a foot away. We came to the main table and I saw that Flippy hadn't left. He was slouched in his chair, legs crossed. He looked up when he saw us coming, and stood up, moving out of our way.

I kept my head down, and helped the butler push the table back. I saw his face turn red with the effort, and so did Flippy.

"Do you need some help?" he asked, placing a hand on the table. "I'll push with you."

"Thank you, sir," the butler replied gratefully.

Flippy smiled at me as we pushed the table back. I blushed and continued to look down. Flippy's additional strength helped greatly. We had the table at the back of the room in no time. I noticed that while we'd been pushing, the band had continued playing. That made me smile.

"You look lovely."

Flippy's voice startled me. I turned around and managed a smile. My eyes widened and I reddened further when Flippy moved a loose piece of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear with a smile.

"You should really wear your hair down more," he said.

"I-I… Well, I don't know."

"That's just my opinion, of course."

"O-Oh well, if you want me to," I replied, pulling out the pin keeping my hair together. I had tied it up quickly before giving out the food for fear my hair would land in it. It felt good to wear it loose again. I shook it out, and it fell over my shoulders, while some of it stuck up into the air. Flippy laughed, and I smoothed it out, blushing furiously.

The guests were returning now, seemingly impressed with the makeshift dance floor. I gasped when I realized Flippy and I were standing in the centre.

"O-Oh," I said, starting to move away. "Sorry."

"Nonsense," said Flippy. I froze in my tracks when he took my hand in his. "May I have this dance?"

"I-I can't dance, Flippy," I protested. He smiled.

"I'm sure you can."

He took my hand and placed it on his shoulder, lacing our fingers together. I tensed up when he put his hand at my waist, but didn't flinch. The band began a fairly slow song, and Flippy and I swayed awkwardly back and forth with each other. Around the middle of the song, when we still hadn't moved more than a foot, Flippy stopped.

"I have an idea," he said. "Stand on my feet."

"Wh-What?" I was baffled.

"Everyone does it. It's sort of like cheating. Go ahead."

"I... I'm way too heavy."

"I'm strong enough. Go on."

I thanked God I was wearing flat shoes, plain red, and not high-heels. I stepped onto Flippy's black shoes and he pretty much did the dancing for me. We moved around, back, forward, in circles. I just held onto his shoulder the whole time and did nothing. We were attracting stares from those around us, and a couple of whispers. I could imagine what gthey were thinking: Flippy, dancing with the maid?

"Ignore them," he said, watching my eyes roam the crowd nervously.

I nodded and looked away from them. I stole a glance at Giggles, who was dancing with a tall blond in an off-putting yellow suit. He had blue eyes like Giggles, and he was staring at Giggles with a day-dreamy expression on his face. I left them to it.

Everyone jumped suddenly when one member of the band, the short and broad one, dropped his guitar. The microphone nearby enhanced the sound, and the man grinned sheepishly. He picked it up again and the band slowly started up again.

I breathed out shakily, and turned back to Flippy. I choked on my gasp. Flippy wore a wild grin. It widened further when he looked at me. He looked around at the crowd dancing and laughed, low and dangerous. I let go of his shoulder and stumbled back a little. The song ended on a sharp, high note from the violin. Flippy loosened his tie and undid the top button, shrugging off his jacket.

"That's better. Now, sweetheart," he said, turning back to me with a large grin. "Here's where the fun _really_ starts."

**A.N. Mini cliffhanger! Hope you liked it as usual! I'm tired now... Good bye!**


	8. Don't Cry

I stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into a twirling woman in a red dress. I ignored her scowl, keeping my eyes on Flippy. He put on an innocent face, eyes wide, and took a step closer, closing the distance between us. He gripped my trembling arm with a strong hand.

"What's wrong with you, dear?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"I-I... I... Y-You... You h-have a... a split p-personality," I breathed. I could hardly form the words.

Flippy's eyes sparked, and he moved his face close to mine. I felt his breath, icy cold against my skin. I felt a chill run up my back despite the warmth of the room.

"Remember what I said about people that spread news about me?"

"Y-Yes," I whispered.

"Good. Now you don't say a word to anyone. You got that?"

"...Yes."

"Excellent," said Flippy, flashing a grin at me. He kept his hand around my arm and steered me to a nearby table. A few guests were sitting down after dancing, chatting with their friends or sipping at glasses of wine. I looked around for Giggles, but she was still dancing with the blonde boy. I sighed to myself and sat down as Flippy instructed. He sat down next to me, as calm as ever. Sitting next to him was a brunette in a long golden dress. Flippy winked at me, and put a finger over his lips. He found a nearby fork, and my eyes widened.

Flippy, still keeping his unnerving gaze at me, twirled the fork around in his hand so it was pointing downwards. Then, a grin stretched across his face, and I heard a scream. I jumped and Flippy turned to look at the woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said casually, looking down at the woman's hand. Blood was trailing down her wrist, the bottom end of the fork sticking up in the air. The woman seemed to be having a hard time breathing too.

"Y-You just-!"

"It appears I just stabbed you," interrupted Flippy. "My deepest apologies. I'm sure you'll be fine, though. So, no need to make a fuss."

The woman stared at Flippy in shock, and her mouth opened and shut repeatedly. Flippy shrugged and turned away, facing me again. He ignored the woman's demands and crying. Then, a large, tanned hand tapped Flippy on the shoulder. Flippy turned around with a bored expression, and I followed his gaze.

A tall, muscular man with a holiday tan was glaring down at us. He was bulky, though. About thirteen stone at a first glance even. Maybe twelve. I couldn't tell from under the black suit he wore. Despite his weight he looked to be strong. In fact, he could probably lift Flippy with a hand and throw him across the room. At a guess, Flippy was nine stone at the most. He was dead meat.

"Can I help you?" asked Flippy.

"You just stabbed my wife with a fork!" the man hissed.

"I did," said Flippy, nodding. "I apologized too."

"Well, that's not good enough. You and your little friend here are obviously troublemakers. And you need to be taught a lesson."

Flippy stood up, edging his chair out of the way with his foot. He stood in a low stance, his back to me. He was crouched in a defensive position, like he was shielding me. I wanted to back away, to leave the room, but I found myself rooted in place. I just watched with wide eyes as the man cracked his knuckles, and clenched his fists. Flippy smirked and did the same.

By now, some more people had gathered around to watch, abandoning their drinks. Flippy ignored them, and kept his focus on the man in front of him. He noticed the way Flippy was crouched low in front of me. A slow smile spread over his face, and then stretched into a grin.

"Protecting your girlfriend?" he asked. I knew he was trying to distract Flippy, bring attention to me instead. But it had the wrong effect. It just got Flippy started.

"She's my maid, you bastard," he growled, then jumped for the man. I heard a tearing noise, and when I looked up, Flippy was balancing himself on the man's broad shoulders by his feet. Flippy was clawing furiously at him, tearing his tailcoat and some of his hair as well as shredding pieces of his skin. The man howled and grabbed Flippy around the waist and one of his wrists. He moved to throw Flippy over his head, but Flippy lifted a leg and kicked the man between his eyes. The man cried out in pain, and Flippy landed nimbly on the ground, back where he'd started off in front of me. I saw blood staining his shirt and tie.

"Are we going to have any more problems?" snarled Flippy. His question was directed at the tall man but he looked around at the people who had gathered around. They shook their heads rapidly.

"Are you going to tell anyone about this?"

Again, the people shook their heads. I was shaking my head too. I, along with everyone else, was astounded at Flippy. He'd taken down a man twice his size without breaking a sweat. I gripped the edges of my chair tightly, playing the fight over in my head.

Flippy seemed to relax at the people's agreement. He straightened up, stretched his arms high and turned away from the audience, who immediately rushed away. The woman who Flippy stabbed and the large man were brought to a spare room on the first floor by the first aid to be looked after. Purses, wallets and jewellery were left lying on the tables.

I was still sitting frozen in my chair, looking up at Flippy. He dusted his hands and sat down with a smile, his eye on a wallet overflowing with notes.

"That was interesting, am I right?" he asked, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

I nodded, looking at the table cloth blankly. "Yeah... I-It was."

"Hmm... Who should we pick on next?" he asked, scanning the dance floor. He grinned and pointed a finger. With his other hand, he turned my head to face the way he was pointing. I gasped. He was pointing at Giggles.

"O-Oh no, Flippy," I whispered. "D-Don't. Not her."

"You know Giggles?" he asked, eyebrows raised. I nodded, and Flippy laughed.

"That will make it more fun, then."

Flippy stood up and grabbed my wrist on the way. I was pulled up with him and dragged out to the dance floor. Flippy looked around for Giggles, who had twirled to the opposite side of the dance floor with the blonde boy. Flippy caught sight of them and smiled. He kept his hand on my wrist and put the other on my waist. He smirked at my worried expression, and then made his way over to Giggles and the blonde, who were lost in each other's eyes. Flippy tapped her shoulder and she spun around to face us. Her mouth dropped open when she saw me with Flippy. Flippy noticed and grinned.

"Well, well, well," he said, looking Giggles up and down. "If it isn't my old maid, Giggles."

"Flippy," she replied, looking at the blonde boy as if for help. He spoke up then.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Cuddles."

Flippy took his hand from mine, but held onto my waist. He took Cuddles' hand in his and shook it. He let go, and I watched Cuddles look at two thin curved lines imprinted in the palm of his hand. He looked about to say something, but Flippy got in first.

"I hope you're enjoying the party."

"Y-Yes," said Giggles. "It's great."

"I see. How is your father?"

"He's fine," said Giggles, pointing to her mother and father dancing a little way off. "Fine."

"Excellent," said Flippy. "Well, we'd better get going, then."

Giggles saw the worried look on my face, and she blurted out, "How have you been?"

Flippy paused, and grinned. I stiffened when he put an arm around my shoulder. "I've been doing great. Flaky here is an excellent maid. And chef too."

Giggles nodded silently. As if reading her mind, Flippy said cheerfully, "Flaky's a brave one. She hasn't gone crying to Daddy yet."

I didn't bother to mention that my father left me when I was three. Giggles stiffened and she bit her lip. Flippy continued.

"Flaky plays the games with me too. Remember those, Giggles? You were such a spoilsport, always ringing up Daddy to come rescue you. And then he believed you. I miss you, you know. Maybe you should come back, give Flaky a break." He patted my head and smirked. "Poor girl works too hard."

"I'd... I'd rather not," said Giggles. "I've been busy lately."

"A shame," said Flippy. "We could have had so much fun. Right, Flaky?" He looked down at me. My eyes widened, and I nodded. Flippy laughed.

"Well, ciao," he said, waving a hand. He brought me to the speakers, pumping steadily from the volume of the music. I was tempted to cover my ears, but with Flippy holding onto me, there wasn't any way I could.

"Now," said Flippy, looking at the mass of wires. "Which one..?"

He traced a finger along the wire coming out of a large speaker, to its plug. He grinned and yanked the socket out, then crouched low, dragging me down behind the speakers. He was looking around the dance floor.

"Wh-What are w-we doing?" I asked. Flippy smiled.

"You keep an eye out for Giggles and that blond eejit," he told me. "When they're nearby, just say 'here.' And say it a little loud so I can actually hear you. You're a quiet one."

"O-Okay," I said, and looked at the dance floor. I saw Giggles with Cuddles, and kept my eye on them. When they were rounding the corner nearest to us, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was too afraid of what would happen. I lifted a shaky hand and tapped Flippy's shoulder. He glanced to me, and grinned. He gave the wire a good pull, and the speaker above us crashed down to the floor. I heard a shrill scream, and immediately knew what had happened.

"Help me!" Giggles screamed. "Cuddles! Someone!"

Cuddles was panicking, he grabbed the nearest couple and shoved them towards Giggles in a hurry.

"My back!" moaned Giggles. Flippy laughed.

Within seconds, the first aid team were there, lifting the speaker and trying to soothe Giggles. A stretcher was called for. Flippy stood up, still with his hand around my wrist. He pointed without a word to a door with a green EXIT sign on, and a white stick-man running through a door. The emergency exit door. He untangled the long, black wires from around his feet. He looked around once more and then bent over, doing the same for me while I stood staring at the speaker.

"Come on, sweeethear," he encouraged, walking with me to the door as my eyes filled with tears. "We need some fresh air."

I sniffled when we reached the door and glanced back. I felt like a murderer, a killer. What would Mother have thought of me? A sob escaped me, and tears fell down my face, staining my dress. Flippy stopped walking and turned me around to face him. He lifted a finger and wiped a tear away from my eye.

"Don't cry, Flaky," he whispered. "All that crying does is dehydrate you."

I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes, and looked down at the dark wooden floor, trying to shut out the shouts from the people behind us. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as we walked out of the emergency exit door to the back garden. I took no notice of the beautiful plants and trees. I was unable to stop tears falling from my eyes. Flippy led me further away from the garden.

All the while, he chanted softly, "Don't cry, Flaky. Don't cry."

**A.N. Well, I hope that was worth the wait! As usual, tell me what you thought of it!**


	9. Paranoia

**My Life as a Maid**

**A.N. Okay, here is Chapter 9 now! Thanks for reviews, alerts, favourites, etc. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Chapter 9, because honestly? I don't know what way this story is going.**

"Don't cry, sweetheart... Don't cry."

Flippy was still chanting the same words. I had stopped crying, but he continued anyway. As we walked, I felt grass, cold and wet on my feet, seeping through my shoes. I looked back at the house. I had let Flippy hurt Giggles, and that woman and her husband too. I could have done something, but each time I had kept my distance and watched. I'd let this all happen, and I couldn't forgive myself.

It was only when I was pulled forward by Flippy I realized I'd stopped walking. He stopped too, and looked at me long and hard. It looked like he was staring into me, into the very core of my soul. I shifted my feet uncomfortably, trying not to look away. Flippy gave an exasperated sigh and let go of my hand.

"Go on if you want," he said, turning away. He began to walk away from me, further into the garden. I surprised myself by walking forwards. I caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at my touch, and turned around, a startled expression on his face. He looked like he was about to attack me, but his face relaxed.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, confused.

"I-I... I don't know," I admitted. "I... I don't like seeing you here. A-All, alone I mean."

Flippy laughed. "Alone? I've been alone for my whole life, sweetheart. I'm used to it. You don't need to worry about me."

He turned again, and continued walking. I spoke again, cursing myself for doing so.

"I just..."

"Just what?" he prompted, a grin spreading over his face. He looked over his shoulder at me. I watched as one of his teeth glinted under the light of the moon.

"I-I just didn't want t-to leave you."

If Flippy was surprised at what I said, he hid it well. My eyes were wide, and most likely my cheeks were flaming. Flippy turned around and took a step forwards. I gave a small gasp when the memory of our last kiss came back to me.

"Something wrong, dear?" asked Flippy. "You're shivering."

"I-I'm... um, a little c-cold. That's all," I tried. It was fifteen degrees outside at least.*

"Really?" asked Flippy, moving closer still. I held my breath. Flippy took off his jacket, and handed it to me. I looked at it blankly, then to him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, grinning again.

"I-I... No," I said, looking at the grass.

"So you lied," said Flippy matter-of-factly.

"N-No, I just..."

"You lied?"

"Yes."

Flippy put his arms on my shoulders, and smiled down at me. "Then you owe me," he said.

I froze when I felt his lips, two centimetres from my own. Flippy's breath was cold against my skin. I shivered again, and he smirked.

"Such a timid person you are," he said. His gold eyes were sparkling, the glow of moonlight increasing the effect. I found myself staring into them despite the chills running through me, and the tension in every part of my body.

I jumped a little when Flippy's lips brushed mine. He placed one hand on the small of my back, and moved the other to the back of my neck, tilting my head up. I felt goose bumps rise along my arms and legs. My hands were shaking, hanging limp at my side. Flippy moved away from me, grinning. He moved his hands away from me with a short laugh. I blew out sharply, and I realized I'd been holding my breath.

"I enjoyed that," said Flippy. He seemed to stiffen up then for a minute. He pressed his hands to either side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He made a sound that sounded like a snarl, clenching his teeth.

"I'm... Having, fun!" he hissed. I stood looking at him, perplexed. I took a step back. Flippy breathed in deeply, in and out, then again. He took his hand away and opened his eyes. It seemed he was back to normal. He looked at me with wide eyes and took a step forwards. I moved back further, and then ran.

"Flaky! Wait, please!"

But I ignored him and kept running. Flippy started after me, and I knew he'd catch up in no time. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. I told myself not to. It would distract me, and I'd slow down. I kept my gaze forward, towards the house. I didn't actually want to go back inside, for fear I'd run into Giggles. But it was better than being out here with a psycho.

"Please, Flaky! Wait!"

Running like this, wind whipping my hair about, cold and fresh against my skin, I was reminded of my childhood once more. The memory wasn't exactly like this, though. Back then, I wouldn't have been running from someone like Flippy in a large garden towards an even larger house.

In those days, I would have become an Indian girl, my pale face decorated with makeshift face-paint. The fields surrounding the few houses where I'd lived transformed into a rainforest infested with creatures of all shapes and sizes. Children chose sides, cowboys or Indians. Petunia and I were always on the same side, be it the fleeing Indians or the invading cowboys. I'd never liked the game much, but the twins from back home used to make us join in.

"Flaky! Stop running, please!"

I glanced over my shoulder, despite having told myself not to. Flippy was quite close. Too close. I turned back and ran as fast as I could, silently begging for my Mother's strength. I prayed and prayed for her, while the muscles in my legs screamed at me to slow down. But I had my Mother's determination with me now. I moved my arms faster; I lowered myself, gaining speed.

After a couple more seconds the sound of Flippy's footsteps faded. I slowed down ever so slightly, arriving at the emergency exit door. I slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I scanned my eyes along the garden, but saw no sign of Flippy. I straightened up and opened the door.

The area was less crowded now. It wasn't surprising some had left early. Giggles was nowhere to be seen. I scooted through people dancing, trying to mostly avoid being seen. I passed Flippy's father on the way; the smell of alcohol that floated about him made me shudder. I found a free table, and sat down quickly, rubbing my sore feet. I put my shoes back on and stood up, scanning the room once more. I must have looked paranoid. I was paranoid.

Flippy entered through the exit door, jacket-less and panting. He looked around, and I dived under the table. A few people turned to look at me, but I ignored them. I peeked out from under the tablecloth, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. Flippy was making his way over the dance floor. I made a small squeaking sound and retreated from him. I was careful to avoid hitting people's legs under the table as I backed away on all fours.

"Excuse me? Have you seen a girl in a red dress nearby? She has long red hair too, and dandruff, if that helps."

I froze at the sound of Flippy's voice. He was a little way up the table, talking to some person I'd passed.

"Hmm... Now that I think of it, I saw a little girl in a dress run by this table not too long ago. What age is she?"

"About fourteen, but she's pretty small," said Flippy.

"I know I saw a girl run by here," said the man. I began to crawl faster and faster, lifting my knee to avoid a woman's high-heel. Flippy moved along the table, and I slowed down, letting him pass me out. When I reached the end of the table, I look out again from under the cloth. Flippy wasn't anywhere nearby. I crawled out, and looked around once more to be sure.

I left the dining hall, and ran to my room. I hurtled downstairs to the basement, tripping over myself. The hall was quiet compared with the rest of the house. Upstairs, the music was blaring, people were shouting over the noise. It was impossible to even hear yourself think. I was glad to be down here in this cool, quiet place.

I swung open the door of my room and flopped onto the bed, kicking my shoes off. I rolled over and found my old clothes folded in my drawer. I got changed, and then lay down in bed, looking up at the ceiling. After a minute, I got up and went to my drawer. In the second drawer, the middle one, there was a key. I took it out and moved to the door. The key turned with a click, and I dropped it back into the drawer before crawling back into bed. All the while I lay looking at the door, as if someone was about to burst in.

"I-I am seriously paranoid," I whispered.

**A.N. Suck-ish? I know :( Sorry this chapter was such a failure. Even so, I hope you enjoyed it, even if only a little.**

*** Fifteen degrees Centigrade is pretty warm. It's about 63 degrees Fahrenheit. **


	10. No Mercy

**My Life as a Maid**

**A.N. Guys? 100 reviews! Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy I am :) I think I'll cry! ...Maybe not. Thank you for reviews, favourites and alerts! So, I hope you like Chapter 10 as usual!**

It was midnight. The house was still. The party had stopped, and I could hear their footsteps as they left the house. I lay in bed, wrapped up in my blanket. I knew that I'd have a lot of cleaning tomorrow. It'd be best to get asleep. I shut my eyes and tried not to think about anything. I turned over onto my left side. I turned to my right. I even counted sheep. But there was nothing to get me to sleep. I yawned once or twice, but my body refused to rest. I was tired, and yet I wasn't tired enough to fall asleep.

"Go to sleep, go to sleep," I muttered, covering my face with my pillow. "Go to sleep."

"Flaky?"

I froze with my face still buried in my pillow. I moved stiffly, looking over at the laundry chute. I wrapped my blanket tighter around me and sat there in the dark, listening carefully.

"Flaky? Are you awake?"

I listened as Flippy continued to call for me. I closed my eyes and brought my knees up closer to me. I wanted to answer, and at the same time I didn't. I wanted to answer because I knew that if I didn't, I could be reported. Especially if Flippy was psycho. But it didn't sound like it. He wasn't calling me any of his usual pet names, and his voice didn't have the same teasing ring to it. Even so, I didn't answer.

I heard Flippy sigh, and move away from the laundry chute. I felt myself relax, and I stretched out on my mattress once more. It took me another while but gradually, my eyelids grew heavy. I was asleep in a couple of minutes.

* * *

><p>I woke early the next morning. Birds were announcing the beginning of the day, and soon afterwards, pale streams of light filled the room. I sat up, and brushed a piece of hair out of my face. I knew it was far too early to be getting up, but I needed something to do, something to keep me awake. I stood up and made my bed, and took my uniform out of the drawer. I shook the creases out and got dressed.<p>

When I opened the door, I was greeted by stony silence. I wasn't surprised to find the cleaning things missing. I walked along the basement and up the stairs. I'd always found it strange that the storage room wasn't kept in the basement. It was on the ground floor, along the main corridor beside the entrance. I made my way as quietly as possible on my tip-toes, avoiding clicking my shoes against the tiles.

I reached the storage room, and took out my things. I went to the dining hall first, and was met with a complete mess. Table cloths were stained with wine, glasses lay knocked over. Someone had attempted stacking the chairs into piles, and had given up by the look of things. Grooves were left where lit cigarettes had been tossed aside. There were ringed stains from people who hadn't used coasters. I'd be busy today.

"Well," I said quietly to myself. "No point standing here looking at it."

I cleared the tables, starting off with the glasses that had been left over. I brought them into the kitchen and laid them out on the counter, then went back to the dining hall. I lifted the vases of flowers that had been so lovely last night, now drooping and withering at the edges, and set them down on the floor. I pulled the table cloth off the first table; then I folded it as best as I could before moving onto the next one.

After a while, I heard the sound of someone moving things around in the kitchen. Madame Talbot, most likely. I folded up the last table cloth, and picked up my sponge and cleaning spray. I'd left my things at the stage. I breezed along the tables, spraying the chemical onto the table. I scrubbed hard at the many stains until they gradually faded away. My arm ached, but I kept going. I looked around for a clock. There was one just above the door. 7:30 am. I kept scrubbing and polishing until my arm felt like it wasn't part of me anymore. But, the tables did look a lot better.

At 8:45 am, I was done. The dining hall was sparkling once more, and everything was back in place. I started off with the rest of the house then. I was about to head downstairs, but I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and realized there was someone knocking at the door. The butler wasn't around, so I put my stuff down and opened the door.

A girl with wavy, purple hair stood in the doorway, glancing around frantically. She was taller than me, and had wide, frightened lilac eyes. She was dressed in a blue jacket and matching trousers, and black shoes. On her head she wore a black cap with the letters 'P' and 'O' in italic. She carried a bag around her shoulder that looked to be stuffed to the brim with paper. Sticking out of the corner of one pocket I could see what looked like... a pickle.

"Are you..?" I realized I didn't know her name, and trailed off.

"I'm Lammy," said the girl, still looking around.

"Didn't you work here?"

"Yes. Is Flippy nearby?" she asked, eyes growing even wider.

"I don't think so," I said, looking over my shoulder.

"Oh... okay," Lammy let out a shaky sigh of relief. She slung her bag from her shoulder and took out a handful of envelopes.

"I work for the post office," she told me as I took them from her. "Our regular is sick, so I'm filling in for today. I don't normally deliver around here. Since, you know..."

"Flippy told me," I said. Lammy nodded.

"Yeah. But, I got a new pickle." She pointed to the one sticking out of her bag. "How long have you been here for?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and then realized I had no idea. I counted the days in my head. It would be seven today, although it felt like months since I'd arrived at the front door in my rags.

"Today, I'll have been here a week," I told Lammy. She raised her eyebrows.

"Really? I stayed for about two nights. How can you stand it?"

"I... I have no idea."

I looked around when I heard footsteps behind me. Lammy gasped from behind me, and moved away from the door. I felt myself stiffen up too. Flippy looked at me carefully. His right eye had a noticeable purple-black bruise framing it. He blinked slowly and then looked over my shoulder. Lammy ducked out of sight, and Flippy continued walking.

"I have to go," said Lammy. "I'll see you some other time, I hope. Good bye."

Lammy ran straight down the garden without a glance back. On her way, her pickle fell from her bag. I hurried after her and picked it up.

"Lammy!" I called. But she was too far gone. I held the pickle in my hand, and then brought it back to my room, under my blanket. Lammy would come back for it sooner or later. Unless she was too afraid. I decided to get back to work.

Later, after eating a dinner of carrots and potatoes, I stretched out on my bed. I was looking at Lammy's pickle. It didn't look to be special in any way. Maybe it was something representative of her childhood?

I remembered I had a toy dog once. My Mother had made it for my fifth birthday. It was stuffed with the little cotton we had at the time. The dog's brown fur was made with part of my Mother's best skirt. His name... I searched through my memories, looking for the dog's name somewhere in there. Trusty. I'd called it Trusty, because my Mother used to say I saw others as untrustworthy. I could trust Trusty, because that's what he was.

I dropped the pickle when I heard a loud screech, and a series of bangs. I remembered what Flippy had told me about his father's hunting. I found myself looking over to the laundry chute. I picked up Lammy's pickle cautiously.

After a couple of seconds, I heard movement upstairs. Flippy was pacing it seemed. But, it was a little too fast to be pacing. And yet, too slow to be running. He was just walking around. I took a look upwards, and saw his black jeans flash by. They stopped abruptly, and Flippy laughed. I moved away from the chute, but too late.

"I can see you, sweetheart," he called. I heard him bend over to kneel at the laundry chute. I didn't say anything, just held the pickle a little tighter. Flippy waited a couple of seconds before speaking again.

"No point hiding," he said. "I can hear you, and I know what you have with you. Lammy paid a visit today, am I right? That's Mr. Pickles your holding. The new one, anyway. Come over here and show me."

I inched back over to the laundry chute, and with a shaking hand, held Mr. Pickles up.

"Hand him up to me, sweetheart. I can't see him properly." Flippy stretched his hand down, holding it open expectantly. I hesitated, and then placed it in his hand. Flippy didn't take his hand away though. I gasped when he clenched his fist suddenly. Juice from the pickle sprayed onto my face. Bits of it hit the sides of the sides of the laundry chute. Flippy laughed, and flicked the remains off his fingers.

"Well, it looks like Mr. Pickles is no more," said Flippy. "Lammy's just going to have to find a new one. Again. Right?"

"I-I... I... She... Y-Yes.."

Flippy laughed again. "You stutter like crazy, you know."

"Y-Yes."

"It's amusing. Now, have I told you about the newest game, darling?"

I shuddered. "N-No."

"Okay then. I'll explain it to you. Children play it sometimes, although they're not great. They call it Mercy. In the game, two people lock their fingers together, and do their best to cause each other pain. The one who calls 'Mercy!' is the loser, and makes the other person the winner.

"But, my game is called No Mercy. We do the same, lock fingers and the rest. But if you beg for mercy, it doesn't matter. This game doesn't stop until I see tears. Do you understand?"

I whimpered, and said, "Y-Yes. I u-understand."

"Excellent," said Flippy, then gestured for my hands. I held them up, and he laced our fingers together.

"On three, begin," said Flippy. "One. Two. Three!"

Immediately, I felt my wrists pushed backwards. I yelped, and tried to push against Flippy, but he was far too strong. He twisted my left arm so the elbow was facing the ceiling in an unnatural angle. I squeezed my eyes shut, and made a feeble attempt at bringing my arms back.

"No way, sweetheart," called Flippy. "We've just started."

Flippy tightened his grip on my right arm, and pushed it away from him so that my fingers were facing the floor. I heard a small crack and made a faint 'ah' sound. Flippy smirked, and pushed a little further.

"Please," I begged, forgetting Flippy's rules. "Please, let go. Please."

"I told you sweetheart," he replied. "I need to see tears."

He twisted my left arm further and I suppressed a scream. I felt tears in my eyes, and I let them fall. Flippy must have seen something, because his grip relaxed and he returned my arms to their normal positions. I breathed in and out shakily, tears falling onto my skirt and trailing down my face.

"You lose, then," said Flippy. "Not that you put up much of a fight anyway. Even so, it was fun. I think I'll let you sleep now. Good night, dear."

Flippy moved away, and I rushed to my bed, crawling in under the covers. I looked at the bits of pickle lying around. It could wait until morning. All I wanted to do right now was sleep.

"I said good night, dear," Flippy called.

I hesitated a moment, but then said, "Good night, Flippy."

**A.N. Bit of a weird chapter there! Anyway, I hope you liked it all the same!**


	11. Reunion

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. It's been a while, I think. Oh well! Here is Chapter eleven! Thank you for all your reviews and favourites! What will happen now, I wonder? I have no idea to be honest! We'll see how it goes, then. Enjoy!**

"Ow," I muttered as I woke. Pain spread through my arms immediately, and I groaned inwardly. My elbows stuck outwards, as if I had my hands on my hips, although my hands were resting on my knees. It looked so awkward, and it really was uncomfortable. I'd slept on my back, trying to avoid bending my arms. It had been a long, long night.

I suppressed a cry of pain as I opened the door. I had no idea how I was going to clean up today. I'd never be finished. I picked up the sweeping brush and winced. Next was the sponge. I made an effort at straightening my arm to get the scrubber, but only managed halfway. I decided to come back later for the mop. Despite myself, I cursed Flippy over and over.

I managed to scrub the basement area, my arm bent the whole time. I stood on my tip-toes instead of reaching up to get the higher spots. When I was done the basement, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, sighing and moaning to myself. After a minute or two I was up again, holding the brush and scrubber awkwardly, the can of cleaning spray was dangling from a loop in my skirt, where a belt should have been. I hadn't been given a belt though, and I certainly couldn't afford one.

I held the sweeping brush awkwardly and moved around, gathering up any dust and dirt lying around. I told myself to keep going, although I felt like dropping the brush and crying. The pain in my arms was getting worse by the minute. I slowed down when I reached Flippy's room. I walked along, trying to make as little noise as possible. I kept my eyes on the door the whole time. Seconds later, I stood on one of my feet and tripped over myself. The sweeping brush followed soon afterwards.

Flippy opened his door and stepped out into the hallway, looking down at me. He realized I was on the floor and looked down at me. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to prevent myself from screaming. My arms felt as if they'd been cut off there and then, the pain was so bad.

"What happened to you?" asked Flippy. He bent and moved to pick me up, one hand on my arm.

"Don't," I gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry... I forgot about um, last night... You know..."

"No Mercy. Yeah."

An awkward silence fell between us. I managed to sit up, my elbows were turned inwards now, my hand splayed out. I clenched and unclenched my fists, and tried to straighten my arms out again. I watched Flippy pick up the sweeping brush.

"I'll help you clean if your arms are sore," he said.

"O-Oh, no it's okay," I insisted, making an effort at pushing myself up. Flippy bent and picked up the sweeping brush, ignoring my protest.

"I'm fine, really. I can do it myself."

"No, I insist," said Flippy, and began sweeping the floor with so much vigour, we both stopped at a cracking sound. Flippy looked down, red in the face, at the two pieces of the brush. I stared at it too, and despite myself, giggled.

"I'm sorry," said Flippy, holding one piece of the brush in each hand. "This is my fault."

"Oh, n-no, you were just trying to help," I assured him. "I'll fix it."

"Nonsense," said Flippy. "We'll get you a new one. I think you're due payment today anyway."

"O-Oh, okay."

I let him pull me to my feet, trying to ignore the pain in my arms. We walked in silence to Flippy's father's office, and I knocked once on the door.

"Enter."

I took with me the two pieces of the sweeping brush; I'd convinced Flippy to stay outside. His father looked at them, and then to me.

"What happened to the sweeping brush?" he asked.

"U-Um, I was leaning too hard on it, sir. And, it snapped, sir."

"You're stronger than you look, then," he said, with a flicker of a smile. "You can buy a new one today with the money from your salary."

"Thank you, sir."

Flippy's father fished around in his pocket and pulled out a few notes. I took them from him and thanked him once more. I put the money in the pocket of my shirt and stepped outside, looking around for Flippy. He was nowhere to be seen. I passed the butler on my way to the front door. He looked at me, puzzled, and I saw him hurry in the direction of the office.

I closed the front door, and took in a deep breath. It felt so good to breathe fresh air, feel the grass wet beneath my shoes. The last time I'd been outside, I'd been petrified. Now it felt as if I was free, able to run around and have fun again. But I knew it was impossible, I'd be returning to the house, and the doors would close again, and I'd remain inside for four years. If I lasted, that was.

I walked to the main part of the city, where there were more shops and stalls. The market was on, rows and rows of merchants selling beaded necklaces, some nuts, others playing music. I looked around happily, smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever. I walked along the street, looking at the items on display. I was so caught up in absorbing everything I didn't see the girl in front of me.

"S-Sorry!" I stammered, then gasped. The girl gasped too. She had fair skin, and long hair in different shades of blue, pulled back into a ponytail. A pink flower rested in the centre of her head. Her eyes, too, were blue and round, taking me in. She wore a blue shirt with small ruffles on the ends of both sleeves, and darker blue jeans. She was about a year or so older than me. Nevertheless, we recognized each other immediately.

"Petunia!"

"Flaky!"

Petunia and I hugged, and then parted, each stunned. Petunia was the first to recover.

"I haven't seen you in so long! Where have you been? We have to talk."

She took me by the hand and led me through the streets until we reached a small corner café. Petunia called a waiter and ordered two coffees, before turning to me.

"Tell me everything," she said, eyes sparkling.

"Well, after my Mother died, I was alone for a couple of years. But, I knew enough to stay well," I added, after seeing the worried look Petunia sent me.

"Then, when I reached fourteen I started looking for work and found the house I'm staying in."

"What's it like?" asked Petunia. She thanked the waiter and I sipped at my coffee before speaking.

"It's... interesting. And big, too."

"Have you been working there long?"

"It'll have been about a week. But, enough about me. What about you?"

"Well, I've been mostly fine," she said, stirring her coffee with a spoon. "My father had some issues with money and the rest a while ago, but he says we'll be okay. My mother's been fine, and she started up working in a day care with one of her friends. Her daughter is nice, but she's in hospital at the minute. Which is why I'm out here."

Petunia must have noticed the shock on my face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Wh-Why is she in hospital?"

"Oh, she was at a party at some rich place, and a speaker fell on her or something. Her back is the worst."

"I... I know her."

Petunia raised an eyebrow. "You do? How did you meet?"

I bit my lip. "That accident with the speaker. It happened at the house I'm staying at."

Petunia blinked in surprise. "No way. That's so weird! You didn't tell me you worked _there_. The family's supposed to be weird. Well, what family they have. They have a son, don't they?"

"Yeah, Flippy," I said nodding, feeling a chill crawl up my back.

"What's he like, then?" asked Petunia, grinning. "Weird?"

"Um, y-yeah. A little. He's not... like his father."

"Is he good-looking?"

I almost choked on the coffee at that. "Wh-What? Good-looking?"

"Yeah. Is he?"

I thought about it. From the moment we'd met, I'd been afraid of Flippy. I hated to look at him, meet his eye. But now that I thought about it, Flippy wasn't half-bad. If he wasn't a sadistic weirdo. He was quite nice. I felt myself blushing scarlet. Petunia grinned from ear to ear.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" she asked. I only blushed redder. Petunia smiled in satisfaction.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you told me someone was good-looking," she said. "In fact, I never thought I'd see you again. We'll have to arrange something soon. We can go shopping, or you could come round to my house."

"S-Sure. Next time I have a day off," I said, managing a smile.

"Petunia!"

A woman like Petunia, stockier and with fairer hair, approached.

"Ah, I have to go Flaky," she said standing up. I stood up with her and we hugged once more.

"I'll see you soon," she called after me as she walked away. I waved after her, and then left to buy a sweeping brush. I found a cheap plastic one in a store nearby, and rushed home. I arrived at the front door, reminded of my first day.

After putting the sweeping brush away in the storeroom, I sat down on my bed and engraved the picture of Petunia into my mind. I didn't want to forget her. I knew it would be a while since we saw each other again.

"Hey, neko," called a voice. I moved to the laundry chute, but realized Flippy wasn't there. He was at my door. He knocked impatiently.

"Open up, neko, or I'll get angry."

I opened the door and stood awkwardly, hands behind my back. Flippy smiled, flashing sharp teeth.

"You met with your friend today, right? Petunia."

"Y-Yes. H-How did y-you know?"

Flippy said nothing, but his smile grew wider. He tapped the side of his head twice and backed away from the door, walking up the stairs to the first floor. I watched him until he was out of sight, and let go of a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I sat on my bed and sighed with a mixture of happiness and relief.

"I'm not done yet, neko. We have games to play."

**A.N. Hope you liked this chapter! And I hope it was worth the wait too!**


	12. Mother

**My Life as a Maid**

**A.N. It's been a while, huh? I haven't had much time to pick this up and get writing again, what with school, and the ridiculous amount of homework I'm getting nowadays. Essays everyday... So tiring... So, I really hope this was worth the wait! Here's Chapter 12 :)**

"Tonight's game will be a telling one. I assume you remember the rules; if you don't tell the truth, you'll be forced to. Understand?"

"Yes."

I was kneeling at the bottom of the laundry chute again, Flippy on the other side. As usual, only his eyes were visible, the same for me.

"Your hand, sweetheart."

I stuck my left hand up the chute, noticing a yellow-ish bruise on my arm as I did. I winced but didn't make any sound.

"Very well. First question. How long have you known Petunia?"

"O-Oh... um... since I was about six... or younger..."

"I see. And did you know Giggles before you talked at the party?"

"No. Th-That was the first time."

I tried not to shudder at the memory of that party. It had been disastrous, and it looked as if I'd been involved with Flippy's 'accidents'; not something a maid wanted on her report card. Giggles had been nice, but now I felt she'd never want to look at me again.

"Good. Okay, now you can ask a question."

"Oh... um..."

"Don't be shy."

The truth was, I had no idea what I wanted to ask him. Lots of questions popped into my head, all delusional and worrying. Where was his mother? Did Flippy have any friends? Or had he spent his life alone in this house? Had Flippy ever murdered something, or someone? I shook that last question out of my head. Finally I decided on a simpler one.

"What is your favourite thing?"

"My favourite thing? Explain."

"W-Well... my favourite thing is..." I tried to think of things I used to love when I was younger. "I used to love going to the river near my old home when it's very calm outside, a-and listening to the water go by."

"But you can't hear it," Flippy argued. "The water would be still if the weather was calm, wouldn't it? There'd be no wind to push it along and _make _noise."

"That... that's the point, I think. That you can't hear it. It makes me feel relaxed."

"Hmmm... Interesting. Well, my favourite thing would have to be... talking to you."

"T-Talking to me? Why?"

I could hear Flippy smirk. "Because I'm aware of the power I hold over you."

I hadn't been expecting an answer like that. And I hadn't ever thought of that either. Flippy did seem to hold a certain power over me, although he was a higher-class. Naturally, he _would _have power over me. I remembered song lyrics I'd heard years ago: _It's a thief in the night, to come and grab you... A disease of the mind, it can control you... _The thought of Flippy having some sort of power over me brought those lyrics to mind.

"I can tell, because whatever I tell you to do, even if it might be life-threatening, you always do it," continued Flippy. "You're like a dog on a leash. Although you're a lot more timid. You're like... a frightened little porcupine." Flippy laughed. "And I'm like a great big bear that pushes you around. Am I right in saying that?"

"Y-Yes, I think so," I agreed. He was right; I was like a dog on a leash.

"So... Let's think. Why did you come to work here in the first place? A big dismal house like this doesn't seem right for you."

"W-Well, when a mucker girl turns fourteen, they have to start looking for work. My Mother taught me a bit about cooking and cleaning so I decided housekeeping might be a good job for me. And then, I saw the advert and signed up. I-I was the only one who did so, I got the job and... Well, here I am."

"I see. And where's your Mother now?"

"Sh-She's... dead," I whispered. I hated talking about my Mother. And I most definitely didn't want to talk about her in front of Flippy of all people.

"Hm," said Flippy. He was silent for a minute. I sat, waiting for him to speak again. His hand was clenched tightly around my own. "It appears we're more similar than we think neko. My Mother is dead too."

"How-?"

"We don't talk about it," interrupted Flippy. "Now, I'm off to bed, neko. See you around."

I felt him lift his hand away, and I whispered, "Good night."

* * *

><p>I woke to the sound of humming from Flippy's room. I lay listening for a minute or two until he stopped, smiling. I liked hearing him like that, although I wasn't exactly sure why. It seemed to make him normal, more like other humans. Everyone hums, don't they? I know I did all the time when I worked, or when I had to think.<p>

I got up, brushing myself down before starting another day's work. I seemed to be working a lot faster today, although the pain in my arms was still there. Nevertheless I powered my way upwards, and found myself faced with a locked door on the second-highest floor. I realized it had been locked a long time ago, long before I arrived here, or Giggles. Possibly even before Lammy arrived. There was that much dust coating the door, the handle was a small lump of grey protruding from the faded wood. I blew gently, and a layer of dust fell from it, hitting the floor.

I looked around, but found no one nearby. I began removing layer after layer of dust from the door, the wood starting to show through. I found the door handle and twisted. The door clicked open and I was looking at a dark, ice-cold room. This too was surrounded in dust, furniture hidden beneath layers of it, like the door. Cobwebs were strewn along the ceiling, stretching from one wall to the next. A shattered light bulb lay on the floor, above it a lampshade hanging from a thin piece of string.

I could see my breath in front of me thanks to the cold. Compared with the general warmth of the house, the room was like walking into Antarctica. I jumped at a slight movement in the corner.

"H-H-Hello?" I breathed.

A rat skittered past my feet and I suppressed a scream, clamping my hand over my mouth. It ran down the stairs at full speed, and I prayed it wouldn't get me in trouble. Walking in here, I felt I was already on the verge of being fired. I didn't want to be blamed for letting rats run loose.

"Just keep walking, Flaky," I whispered to myself. I took another step inside the dark. I wished there was a light; the dark was starting to bother me. Even so, I kept walking, trying to breathe steadily and not make too much noise. Every few seconds I looked over my shoulder. The more I looked, the more I wanted to turn back. But I kept going, avoiding stepping on creaking floorboards and looking out for any rats.

I froze at a scratching noise, and saw two pairs of eyes looking up at me from the floor. I moved away from the rats and listened to them run out into the corridor by me. I brushed aside some dust from what looked like... a toy car? It was faded red and one of the wheels were missing from it. There was a thin gold line along each side, and plastic window panes, one of which was missing.

The car was atop a box that looked to be full of toys and books. Most of the books had yellowed over time but some of the titles were still visible: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; Treasure Island. The toys were old; they looked to be for a young boy. Train carriages and small buses, spinning tops and wind-up soldiers. The box looked full to the brim with toys, but I didn't have time to look at them all.

Another box of clothes lay close by. This was full of old tracksuit bottoms, shirts and jumpers and the occasional pair of shoes. Odd socks were everywhere, most of them full of holes. The jumpers had loose stitches around the hems, and jeans were frayed at the ends. It was as if someone had moved here, only the stuff was old and worn instead of new and shiny.

I stopped dead at the back of the room. A bundle of clothes was piled in a heap. And, just visible, was a slim finger peeking out from under a jacket. My breath escaped me in a noise of surprise mingled with horror.

Despite my disgust, I began stripping away the clothes, layers of jackets followed by layers of jeans. Whoever it was under these clothes had been hidden well. I removed the final layer of jumpers, throwing the last one over my shoulder. And then I gasped, and stumbled backwards, knocking a book from an ancient shelf.

A woman's blank, staring face looked up into my eyes without blinking. Long, forest-green hair was scattered messily along her face, splayed out around her. Her thin red lips were parted in an expression of shock, eyebrows raised. She wore a plain, pale green shirt, the top button undone. Black, skin-tight jeans had once clung to her legs, now loose. The woman's pale skin was too pale now, tinged with green. Her fingers looked too thin underneath her rotting skin. One hand was lying across her chest, held to her heart. The other lay to the side, fingers spread as if she was about to push herself up. But she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

The most noticeable thing about the woman was her eyes. Underneath black lashes, she stared up at the ceiling, but I knew she wasn't seeing anything. The most striking thing about her eyes was the colour. A vivid orange-gold colour. Golden eyes...

Golden eyes just like Flippy's.

**A.N. So, this was a pretty short chapter. Sorry about that but like I said, I have almost no time to myself anymore. And now, I'm off to face a mountain of homework. Until next time!**


	13. I See You've Met My Mother

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Here we are again! I don't know what I did in the last chapter at all... Now I'm confused X_X Even so, I hope this will be a... well, an okay chapter! **

I screamed then. A loud, piercing scream escaped me, and I didn't do anything to stop it. Which, I was soon to learn, was a mistake. I clamped a shaking hand over my mouth. Tears filled my eyes for reasons I couldn't understand. I tried to stop myself from screaming, tried to back out of the room. But I was rooted to the spot; my body was stiff as a plank.

It was only when I ran out of breath, my throat scorching, that I stopped screaming. I heard footsteps. Someone was sprinting up the stairs to the top floor. I whirled around, my body filled with sudden energy –most likely adrenaline. Shutting the door with a bang, I stumbled out onto the corridor, my breathing shallow.

The footsteps sped up, and they were close by. Too close for my liking. I didn't want to run into anyone. I backed up, away from the stairs. I turned to run into another room, but my hands were shaking, and I fumbled stupidly with the handle. By then, it was far too late.

"What are you doing?" Flippy asked. He was dressed in a plain green shirt and dark jeans; his feet were bare. His voice was low, and had a dangerous edge to it. A green beret was flung lazily over his head. It cast a dark shadow over his face, but this only brought out his eyes more, sparking and inquiring. One thin eyebrow was raised in question. I struggled to breathe, to think of an answer.

"I asked you a question. What are you doing?"

I opened my mouth and shut it again. I repeated this multiple times until I could manage to say anything. Flippy waited.

"I-I... N-Nothing I... I w-wasn't doing a-anything..."

Flippy took a step closer, and I reached behind my back for the door handle, trying to keep my eyes on Flippy. My hand found the handle, and I gripped it tight, ready to fling open the door. Flippy took another step towards me, and I heard one of my knuckles crack. They were turning white, I was holding on so hard.

"You look a little scared, neko," stated Flippy, starting to smile. "Any reason for that?"

I shook my head too fast. I realized I had a splitting headache. My legs started shaking, and I moved to grip the door tightly with my other hand to keep myself standing.

"You screamed. Why was that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I-I... Oh, I f-fell." I immediately regretted what I said. What kind of an excuse was _falling_?

"I see," said Flippy. "And where did you hurt?"

"M-My legs."

"Hm."

Flippy stepped closer, and inspected my legs. I was shaking so badly, my knees were knocking against each other. I tried to steady my breathing.

"Nothing there, neko. You sure it was your legs? Or maybe you're lying to me?"

"I-I... N-o, it was m-my arms," I said, and held out my arms. They were frail as a leaf in the wind. The bruises from No Mercy and Flippy's other games were starting to disappear rapidly but there will still a few sore spots. Flippy looked at them, and I held my breath.

"They look like older bruises to me, sweetheart," said Flippy. He straightened up, and I flinched under his stare. He smirked.

"Your eyes, neko. So frightened, and so timid. It's quite hilarious, you know."

"I-I have t-to go clean, F-Flippy," I said, making an attempt at ducking under him. He stopped me by extending his arm quickly, and I stumbled into him. Flippy grinned.

"In a rush, aren't we neko?" he commented. "Stay here. I'm not done with you."

I stood on the spot, and squeezed my eyes shut. Hindsight was a terrible, terrible thing. Realizing things too late was a particularly bad habit of mine. I'd forgotten my cleaning things and left them in the old room where Flippy's mother rested. Flippy had noticed this too.

"Where are your cleaning things?" he asked. He sounded curious, but there was a hidden suspicious edge to his voice that I detected immediately.

I debated over telling the truth or coming up with a lie that would only sink me deeper into trouble. However, either answer I gave Flippy would result in trouble. If I told him my cleaning things were in there, he'd look. And he'd already know his mother was in there.

But, maybe he didn't know? Maybe someone had laid his mother there and kept her a secret from Flippy. Had his Father told him a lie when he was younger? That his Mother had passed away when he was just a baby? It was possible, and in my head it all seemed very realistic. My thoughts wandered to the clothes and toys I'd seen. Had they been kept a secret too?

But, it was possible that Flippy knew about his mother. In fact, that was most likely. Those clothes and toys must have been his from when he was younger. Maybe he'd even...

I shook my head as a horrible thought came to mind. No way.

Flippy laughed. "You look like you're arguing with someone," he told me. "Well? Where are they?"

"I-I left them b-behind..."

"Where?"

I paused. Hindsight. So terrible.

"I-I mean, I th-think they might have f-fallen. D-Downstairs. When I f-fell, I mean."

"I didn't see them," said Flippy, both eyebrows raised. He crossed his arms.

"O-Oh, um... M-Maybe it's in th-this room."

I gestured weakly to the door behind me. Flippy nodded.

"Maybe. Go check."

I nodded, and heard faint bells ring in my head. I opened the door and walked inside, shutting it quietly. I stood in the centre of the room and I felt tears fill my eyes. Fear seemed to do this to me. I just broke down.

"Oh... What will I do..?" I was pacing now, trying hard to think of something. I needed to avoid that room, but Flippy had total control of the situation. It had been obvious I was hiding something, but now his suspicions had been confirmed.

I wondered what he was doing out there in the hall. Or was he still there? I froze when I thought of him looking inside that old room. He'd know immediately I'd been there. Flippy would storm in; he'd shake me until I was unconscious. I'd be fired. Flippy would...

"Flippy is not a murderer," I whispered furiously. As much as I did try to convince myself, horrific thoughts crept into my mind. I shuddered.

"Get a grip of yourself, Flaky. Nobody's going to k-kill you."

I hugged my arms and prayed in silence for some help, some advice. None came.

"Neko? You're taking awful long in there. Something wrong?"

"N-No," I called back. My voice was high-pitched, it sounded almost hysterical. I must have looked delusional. I certainly felt delusional. I walked unsteadily towards the door and pushed it open, taking my time. Flippy was leaning casually against a wall, regarding me with an empty, emotionless gaze.

"Not in there?" he asked. As if he didn't already know the answer.

"N-No. I d-didn't see th-them."

"You didn't see them?" asked Flippy. "So, I might be able to see them? Or are you implying that they're not in there at all?"

"Th-They aren't in there."

"Ah. And where else would they be?"

"Th-They could be a-anywhere," I said. "I'll keep l-looking. You d-don't have to."

"I want to."

And that decided it. I couldn't tell him to go away or not to bother himself. I was the maid. So instead of dismissing him, I waited for what he had to say next.

"What about this room?"

Flippy lifted one hand and pointed with a finger to the room where his mother lay, smirking at me. I froze up immediately. Flippy noticed it too. He nodded, and strode purposefully towards the door. I watched his left hand flexing as he walked, clenching and unclenching. I stood watching, my body numb and tingling all at once. I wanted to run, to throw myself down stairs at full speed and run out the door. But my feet remained rooted to the spot; I was unable to move.

Flippy placed one hand on the door knob, twisted it around, and kicked the door open gently with his foot. It creaked as it swung open, and the old, musty chill of the room swept over the hall, enveloping us. I shivered, and watched as Flippy took a look inside. A smile spread across his face, but didn't reach his eyes. I squeezed my left hand with my right, so hard I thought I might break it. But I couldn't help it. My bones were rattling inside me I was shivering so hard.

"Your cleaning things are in here all right," called Flippy. He had made his way inside the room. Without meaning to, I followed him to the doorway. Flippy was a silhouette, standing over the clothes that had been thrown to the side of the woman's corpse. Flippy was standing over his mother.

He turned to grin at me. His eyes shone like a cat's in the darkness, his white teeth flashing. I lost my balance for half a second and stumbled back a step.

"I see you've met my Mother, neko," said Flippy.

**A.N. And another chapter is finished! Wow, two updates in one day! Not this story, of course. I hope that was okay ;~; Tell me what you thought of it! Until next time!**


	14. You Are Insane

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Migosh, it's really been a while, huh? I bet people thought I'd discontinued, but nope! I don't think I'll give up that easily! *determined face* Let's do this! So, here is the next chapter! I hope this turns out half-decently; I don't want to let people down. It's been a while and I'm a little rusty, but maybe I can struggle through this. One paragraph at a time...**

**Thank you to everyone who reviews too, I never actually say it but every one of them means a lot. They are lovely to read and everyone here has given me so much encouragement! Okay, I'll let you guys read now ^^"**

I stumbled backwards, choking on my breath, while he watched with a piercing stare. My mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but I couldn't remember whatever it was I was going to say. In the end, I just gave a pathetic whimper.

Flippy glanced back to the door briefly and then turned back to me again. His arms hung loosely at his side, his stance casual. He didn't even look angry. In fact, he looked completely calm, his gaze serene and unwavering. But I knew there were sparks flying in that twisted mind of his.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked with a small, but dangerous smile.

I didn't say anything. I watched expression darken.

"I'm beginning to think that you are truly deaf," said Flippy. "Maybe I'm right. Or, maybe you really are just a nervous wreck. I had my suspicions."

He smirked as if... as if we were friends. It was clear he thought we were, though. I shook from head to toe. I tried to say something, anything, but my voice failed me.

"Oh come now, Flaky," he said, growing impatient. I felt uncomfortable with him using my name after all the 'sweethearts' and 'nekos'. I shifted my feet and tried not to meet his gaze.

"You know that you can trust me," he continued, taking a step closer. I wanted to move back but the stairs were behind me and I knew I'd fall if I moved back any further.

"After all, we're best friends." With one last stride, he gripped my wrist tightly with his hand and placed the other on my shoulder. "Right? You made a promise."

"Y-Yes," I whispered.

"Good. So, what _were_ you doing in that room?"

"I realized I-I'd never cleaned it and... And I found her..."

Flippy grinned, and I flinched at the sight of his unusually sharp teeth. They glinted under the light, like knives.

"My mother, you mean."

"Yes."

"Hm." Flippy let go of my wrist but held me firmly in place. He looked me up and down, and I tried to stand as still as possible. I couldn't stop my knees knocking together though, and the sound of my heartbeat pounded loudly in my head.

"Come on back in and I'll tell you a story."

I felt him take my hand and walk me to the room. Every piece of me was screaming to pull away, to run and never stop. But I drifted along to the door and let me lead him through, out of pure fear for what might have happened if I didn't.

We stood above the body of the poor woman, and the thoughts I'd had earlier came back in a rush. How did the woman die? Why was she kept here, and not buried? A shiver ran up my spine and I tried to steady my breathing, but it was still shaky, still uneven.

"Her name was Clarissa," said Flippy quietly. His grip on my hand tightened. I could see his jaw clenching and unclenching.

"She isn't dead long," he went on. "Just before the first maid arrived in, Giggles."

"Why is she here?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

Flippy gave me a dark glare. "Did nobody tell you what curiosity did to the cat?"

"I just-"

"Doesn't matter. I..."

He trailed off, and I saw him frown. He let go of my hand slowly, his fingers still bent when he took them away from my wrist. I took a small back when he raised a hand to the side of his head, muttering something under his breath. He cursed and rested one hand against the wall to keep his balance.

"Go away!" he hissed. "Leave us _alone_!"

"Flippy," I began. "I-"

"Shut up!" he snarled. His knees locked and he clutched his head in his hands. He looked like he wanted to tear his hair out from the roots. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his forehead. I moved to take another step back and felt my foot land on the hand of the body on the floor. I flinched, lifting my foot just as Flippy pushed me hard against the wall, moving in a blur.

"Don't touch her," he whispered, his voice low. He held me against the wall for a while, staring me down. After a minute, he relaxed, but kept his grip. "Just... don't touch her."

"I-I'm sorry," I replied shakily. "I didn't know she was there."

"Sh," he stopped me. It sounded as if he meant to be gentle, but there was a hidden threat behind his tone.

He paused and gritted his teeth together. I tried to slip out under his arm, but he pinched my shoulder hard and I suppressed a cry, standing as still as I could manage. I watched as he panted, trying to keep himself in check.

"I told you to _leave us alone_!" Flippy shouted, sounding hysterical. He was fighting hard to push his calmer, friendlier self away. He moved away from me and clawed furiously at his hair again. I told myself to look away, but my eyes were glued to him. Any gentleman-like trait I'd ever seen in him had been wiped clean from the moment he found me up here. His behaviour confirmed it though. He really was crazy.

"F-Flippy, someone will-" I started, but he interrupted me.

"Be quiet!" he snapped. "Stop! Stop talking to me! Can't you wait one minute?"

I felt tears in my eyes and he glanced at me, eyes wide. The hand that had been clutching the side of his head dropped slowly to his side as he stared.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "Don't cry... Please"

I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my face, though. I trembled from head to toe shamelessly. He watched me with a distraught look on his face.

"Please," he whispered. "Don't cry..."

I shook my head. "You... F-Flippy... You're..."

He smacked his fist against the wall and cursed under his breath. Glaring at me from the corner of his eye, he waited for me to speak.

"What? What am I?" he asked, starting to turn back towards me.

I let out a shaky breath and started again. "Flippy. You... Y-You are insane."

**A.N. And that, readers, is why I stayed away from this story. I have serious writer's block, or something along that line. It'll be a while before this is updated again, most likely... I hope you survived through that crap. Most likely, you were expecting more action. Until the next time!**


	15. Time To Tell A Story

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Well, I'm back to this sooner than I expected! Hopefully I'll be able to come up with something half-decent for you guys, because I'm so confused right now. I thought I would be able to think clearly. I have a ton of studying to do and I'm not doing a good job of it so far... So, let's see how this will work out!**

"Insane?" Flippy asked, a half-smile playing around on his face. One of his eyes twitched a little as he spoke. "You think I'm insane?"

It had taken him a minute or so to actually respond to what I'd said. But, I wasn't complaining. The only thing I wanted right now was to leave this house, and go far away. No, wait. I didn't _want_ to go. I needed to go. I'd had too much of Flippy and his sadistic games, too much of his downcast father. Too much of everything to do with this house.

I should have followed what Giggles had done, and Lammy. I should have left much, much sooner. I could find a job in a better house and actually be able to work, without constantly looking over my shoulder for fear that someone was watching, or waiting.

Too late for all of that now, though. I'd stayed too long. I'd let too many things go wrong. I'd hurt people I barely knew, even if not directly. I'd been manipulated into joining Flippy in causing mayhem. Mayhem that I could have stopped, if I was just a little braver. If I wasn't so ridiculously frightened all the time, if-

Wait. What was I saying? Sure, I wasn't the bravest of people. But I wasn't a psychopath either. I wasn't twisted; I didn't _enjoy_ other people's pain. Flippy was that person, the one that was responsible for the small cuts that decorated my wrists and the bruises on my forearms, the one who had made me cry.

And not only had he made me cry on numerous occasions, but every time he did, he sat and _watched_. He'd told me to look up into his own eyes so he could look at the tears falling, with that amused smile on his face. Worst of all, I'd let him _kiss me_. Not just once, either. Twice. I stood shaking while he kissed me, did nothing to stop him. I hadn't tried to pull away or protest.

The real question was: why? Why had I let him?

I told myself it was because I knew what he was capable of. I could be fired in a heartbeat. And at the time, that was what mattered. Keeping my job and trying not to draw too much attention. And then of course, I ran into him on the top floor. And it had happened. And, in that small moment between us, he had maintained his calm demeanour and I remembered thinking he seemed... human.

I suppose that in a way, part of him _was_ human. The normal side of him. He'd been nice to me before. We'd chatted briefly now and then. In those times, I genuinely liked him and enjoyed his company. And if he was always like that I might have even considered him as a friend. If it wasn't for his split personality.

My thoughts were interrupted by Flippy.

"I suppose you're right," he said slowly. "Maybe... I've been called insane before, by a lot of people, because of my rather... violent outbursts. Father, our butler, Madame Talbot. All those have said it to me more times than you'd think. And then, of course, Giggles and Lammy. Though, Lammy couldn't say much, her being a little unhinged herself. And now you, Flaky. You've finally gathered up the courage to call me insane. Well done, Flaky, well done."

He clapped his hands theatrically, advancing towards me with a quick stride. I found myself coming in contact with the wall, unable to move back any further. Flippy stopped when he heard a noise downstairs, most likely the butler walking around. He frowned for a split second but regained his composure.

"But, do you know who said I was insane the most of all?" he asked. "Take a guess, Flaky."

I took my time answering, but even then I stammered. "I-I really don't know, F-Flippy. P-Please, I just..."

He watched me steadily, with the same small smile on his face the whole time. "I'll give you a hint, if you like. She called me sick. Twisted. Unstable. Oh, she called me so many things. All the time, every day. She would look at me, and would tell me that I was a monster. She once said that I was evil hiding under the mask of a little boy. Do you know who it is, Flaky? I think I've given you enough information to come up with a guess."

I already knew, before he'd finished. The girl –or rather, the woman- he was talking about was... his mother. His mother, whose corpse lay decomposing in the same room we stood in.

Putting the answer with what Flippy had told me, I felt a multitude of emotions all at once. Anger was the first one I could distinguish. I had never been the type of person who angered easily, but the thought of a mother saying those things to a young boy, her own child, was reason enough to be furious.

I felt pity, of course, for Flippy. Having to put up with things like that said to him, I actually felt truly sorry for him.

The next thing I felt was, to my surprise, suspicion. Was Flippy lying to me, to purposefully make me believe he'd had a rough life as a child?

"I..."

"Don't know what to say?" Flippy finished for me with another haunting smile. His eyes flashed in amusement when I nodded. "Let me tell you a story, sweetheart. Sit down."

I looked at the floor with a blank expression. Sit? Where on earth was I supposed to sit?

I jumped when I felt Flippy's icy hand lock around my wrist. He pulled me down with him and we landed with a thump on the dusty floor. I coughed as the dust drifted over us. Flippy grinned again; each seemed wider than the last.

We looked as if we were two friends playing around somewhere they shouldn't be. If we had been any younger, I think we'd have looked exactly like that image. I watched Flippy anxiously. He sat almost perfectly still. His eyes seemed to glow a little in the faint light coming from the hall.

"Flaky?"

It was the butler's voice. I looked at Flippy to see what he would say. His hand slid across the floor and took mine, holding tightly. I flinched.

Flippy put a finger to his lips, and shook his head slowly. _No. You have to stay here._

I looked to the door for a long moment. Finally, I turned back to Flippy. He didn't let go of my hand.

"Let's get on with that story, hm?" he asked, but he wasn't expecting an answer.

"O-Okay," I whispered. Flippy smirked.

"Why so quiet? It's a good story."

He sat up straighter and took his beret off with his free hand, tossing it to one side. "Here it goes. When I was just ten years old, still pretty young, I had some knowledge of knives. Knife-throwing, to be specific. I was very good, not likely to miss a target. I used to practise in the gardens with the small trees. Everyone, of course, disapproved of my little hobby, but it was something I was _talented_ at. Do you see what I'm saying?"

I'd been listening in silence, watching his face for any changes in emotion. I found none; Flippy's face was devoid of emotion. He watched me too, waiting for me to speak up. There was a hint of impatience in his tone.

"I-I think so," I said. Flippy nodded.

"It was a break. A break from all the 'do this, do that' crap that everyone gave me. Always telling me how to live my life. Always making me do things I didn't want to. So I could honour my family and gain respect from other families. But, I didn't care what they thought about us. I wasn't bothered with making my family look good. Why live a lie? Far from perfect, I'll say."

"Why?" I didn't realized I'd asked until Flippy started talking again.

"Mother and Father never got along. Always arguing over the smallest of things. The only noises I ever heard when I was inside were the slamming of doors, and the butler muttering under his breath. He was assigned the task of looking after me. I guess I gave him a hard time. I rarely listened to what he said, and even them, I did my best to irritate him. Poor guy.

"But now, back to the important things. My Mother was celebrating her thirty-fourth birthday that same year, a month after my eleventh. It was to be held here in the house, which didn't actually look much different, aside from some minor details. Same big table and the like. There were plenty of preparations made, decorations and food, all the usual stuff. Like the party we had here. Fun, am I right?"

"I-I guess..."

"Heh. Well, Mother and her friends were having a good time, talking about whatever it is women found interesting, I suppose. Father was, as usual, discussing business and money-making with some other fools. And I was out in our garden, still messing around with knives, and making targets of small animals, now. Just squirrels, and on some occasions a bird."

I shuddered. Flippy seemed to feel it too.

"I thought you had to hunt those things when you were young," said Flippy, eyebrows raised.

"I only killed animals when it was necessary," I replied, with a little more disgust than I'd intended. I had stuck to picking berries and edible plants. It was only in the heart of winter that I made myself kill. Flippy's expression darkened.

"You too," he muttered. "You've already started hating me."

I could feel my mouth opening and closing repeatedly, about to deny it, but couldn't bring myself to say anything. The butler called again, closer this time, but I was only dimly aware of his voice.

"Anyways," Flippy continued. "The butler, Jerome, was sent to bring me inside. And, well, I kicked up a fuss. I kicked and I protested. Mother, she... she took me from Jerome and made a show of me. My mother, who was always telling _me_ to make us look good. The same mother who took me by the collar and displayed me in front of her friends like a useless toy. She scolded me over and over. And... then she hit me. I barely felt it, it was just a light smack across the cheek but... It made me so angry."

As much as I hated myself for it, I couldn't stop shaking. Flippy squeezed my hand gently and I looked down at them. One small and shivering, the other pale and firm. Flippy went on with his story.

"When she hit me, I just acted on instinct. I didn't think. I was so sick of always being limited, having to represent our family and make us look good. Sick of my parents and the view on life they'd brought upon me. So much more things I hated about our family, but those were the most prominent. And all at once, I just let it out. All in one massive burst of negativity, of anger and disgust.

"I turned around and I punched her in the face. Right between the eyes. I think she was unconscious, but I wasn't really aware of it then. Either way, we both went down. I was still firing punches. I didn't care whether she felt them or not –though she probably did- I just needed to vent my anger. I was grabbed pretty quick though, by Father and Jerome. Father kept saying I was a disgrace, that I was a worthless boy. I didn't listen; I was too consumed by my own anger at the time to care what he thought of me."

"Wh-What happened to her?" I asked, though I was afraid I already knew the answer. Flippy looked at me without saying a word and gave me a sad smile.

"The next day I was told she was in a coma," he said, glancing over at his mother's body. "After a week I was allowed to go in and actually see her. I never cried before, Flaky. When I was a baby, and I needed something, I would cry. But I'd never experienced anything like this. And when I saw her lying there, I was filled with regret.

"And, another week after that, Jerome came to my room late at night. I asked him if Mother was awake yet. He took his time answering, but eventually, he just said, 'She's never going to wake up.'"

I looked at Flippy, his eyes shining. Not with malice, but with the tears that were about to roll down his cheeks. I was speechless, sitting quietly with him in the near-darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, I spoke up again. Flippy looked at me as soon as I opened my mouth. He looked as if he was desperate for pity. And, I realised, he really was. He wanted someone to love and accept him.

But... I couldn't bring myself to be that person. Not after hearing that.

"I..." I tried clearing my throat and finally managed to say what I'd been meaning to say for a while. "I can't do this, Flippy. I just can't... It's time for me to go."

**A.N. Aaaaaaand, bam! I hope you liked it! It was kind of suck-ish and a little rushed. Was it worth updating? I'm not too sure...**

**Also, TryingToFindTime, I couldn't respond to your review, so here:**

**I'm glad you're liking this! And, I tend to make up things as I go along; I'm not good at planning...**


	16. Refuge

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Update again! I suddenly found inspiration to work on this again, after all. I just noticed the amount of people begging for me to continue this; I will always continue my stories unless I say different, so there's no need to worry! So let's see what happens!**

Flippy's expression darkened immediately. But, before he could open his mouth to speak, I turned and ran out of the room without thinking twice about it. My usual cowardice had vanished, replaced by adrenaline and the need to get away from this house and the people in it. I'd had enough of this place.

I stopped myself from crashing into a wall and readied myself for an escape. I heard Flippy snarl in annoyance. No more than half a second later, he was on the chase. I rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on the way down. The butler, Jerome, on his way upstairs, stopped in surprise. He pressed himself to the side of the wall and I zipped past him, turning towards the next flight. Flippy followed soon after, giving the butler a shove to get him out of the way.

"Flaky!" he called. "Don't be stupid!"

I cried out in pain when he grabbed my wrist, digging his nails in hard, as I moved to run down the stairs. In desperation, I kicked out and managed to hit his shin. However, it proved useless; Flippy probably didn't even register it. The only response I got was a frustrated grunt before he reached to grab my other wrist.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, trembling, and squeezed my eyes shut as I drove my fist into his middle as hard as I could.

He let go of me almost instantly, and cursed under his breath, stumbling back a step. He quickly regained his composure, though, as I had anticipated. I wasted no time, and turned away to begin running down the stairs again. It wasn't long before I heard Flippy's footsteps again, though.

"Come back here, Flaky!" he shouted after me. "Just listen to me, for God's sake!"

"Leave me _alone_!" I screamed, not caring about who heard me. Fear was beginning to take hold of me. I had to get out of here or I would faint from sheer terror. Flippy kept calling, snarling in frustration as he pursued me.

I continued hurtling down steps, trying to block out his voice. I got to the last few steps and took a jump. I landed clumsily in a crouch and propelled myself towards the front doors, threw them open, and dashed outside. My lungs were burning, but I didn't dare stop.

A gust of wind helped me on my way out. I ran along the path leading away from the house, and was at the front gate within seconds. My breathing was ragged; I braced myself for another long run. I looked back over my shoulder with wide eyes and flung the gate open upon seeing Flippy, still running towards me, furious. I slammed the gate shut and rounded the nearest corner I could find onto a busy market street.

I turned and peered around the wall at the house once more. I gave a start when I caught sight of Flippy, standing outside his house, looking right at me with those bright, bright eyes. Those eyes that seemed to be able to see into a person's very soul. He said nothing at all, did nothing. Just stared and stared.

The way he looked at me said one thing. _I will always find you._

I jumped when he smiled softly and lifted a finger to point at me. I stumbled back and almost fell, watching him warily, but he started retreating back to the house. Still he kept his gaze on me, unwavering. I forced myself to look elsewhere, at anything that could provide an escape route.

It was only when I looked down at my black shoes that I realized I had nowhere to go now. Whether I liked it or not, that house was where I had lived. I had virtually nothing now. I came from a tent in the countryside, but I had no one there, no one who could help me start anew.

"What did I do?" I whispered to no one in particular, still looking down at my shoes. Someone elbowed me as they bustled past but I barely felt them. "Why did all of this happen to me?"

I looked at the white shirt I wore, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. Some faint bruises still remained, reminders of what had happened to me during my time there. My arms still ached. I recalled all those nights 'playing games' at the laundry chute until I could hardly feel my arms, as they would have been completely numb. I looked at my knees peeking out under the skirt of my uniform, at the brown-ish markings left from being forced to kneel down while Flippy experimented.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, already feeling sick from recalling the terrifying games, the time stretching on until Flippy finally released me.

There were good times too, I suppose. Rare, rare moments. The time we danced was enjoyable, I'd let myself forget about the darker edge Flippy had. Yes, there was times when he was kind to me. I remembered singing with him before his father caused him to change again. When he wasn't busy being insane, he seemed like someone who could easily make friends and have a good time.

But, now that I thought about it, there were a lot of small moments with Flippy that I had enjoyed while he was still his cruel, taunting self. Once, he defended me against Madame Talbot, and decided not to play games. Despite myself, I still viewed it as a kind gesture. And then, he had kissed me twice...

What? No, no, no. How on earth did I find_ those _enjoyable?

"Get it together," I muttered. "First things first. I need somewhere to stay."

I looked up at the sky, clear blue with not a cloud in sight. Where could I go?

"Petunia," I said quietly, eyebrows raised. Petunia would let me stay in her house until I had somewhere to go, wouldn't she? Either way, she was the only option for now, it seemed. Until I calmed myself down and got another job, I could stay there. The real question was whether I would be able to calm down.

I started off along the street, glancing at stalls lined with goods now and then. I'd known the way to Petunia's house since I was little, but I never had much reason to go there. We'd always spent our days outside, anyway.

I stopped when I nearly bumped into a thin boy with light blue hair. He turned to look at me and adjusted his thick glasses; his blue eyes were wide. He wore a white shirt and black trousers, and was carrying a bundle of books.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry for getting in your way."

"N-No, it's fine," I replied hastily, eager to get off the streets and to Petunia. I moved to walk past him, but he just started talking again.

"Are you from around here?" he asked.

"Ah, no. If you'll excuse me-"

"I'll give you directions, if you like," he offered. "I'm called Sniffles. If-"

"It was nice to meet you, Sniffles, but I really have to go," I interrupted; visions of Flippy chasing after me had already started circling around my mind. I thought I was going to go crazy.

I didn't let him get another word in; I just took off at a jog towards the outskirts of the city. After a few minutes I'd left the bustling town and was navigating through the quieter streets where Petunia lived. All the houses here looked the same, only the numbers above each door told them apart.

At long last, I reached her front door. It wasn't an extraordinary house, like Flippy's, but it was its simplicity that made it so likeable. It was a house you could walk into and feel welcome no matter what your situation. Which was just what I needed.

I knocked hesitantly, and then louder. The door swung open and Petunia looked at me, surprised. I didn't wait for her to say anything, however rude it might have seemed. I let myself go completely and hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face.

"Flaky," she said, taken aback. "What's wrong? Shouldn't you be working? I thought..."

"Y-You have t-to help me, P-Petunia," I whisper. "Please, j-just for a little while. I-I just need a n-new job. C-Can I please s-stay here?"

"Well of course you can, but what's going on?" She took my arm and held me in place, looking at me like she was inspecting me.

I opened my mouth to tell her about everything that had happened since I first took a step inside that house, about all the things I'd put up with, about Flippy and his mother. I wanted to tell her everything. But not a single word came out. Instead of my own thoughts and memories being in control, I heard the same thing over and over, saw the same things flashing in front of my eyes.

Piercing, amber eyes. Unnaturally sharp teeth. Forest green hair, hidden by a green beret. Checked green patterns slashed with the colour of dark denim. Then the laundry chute. His hand. His knife. The bruises. Everything that reminded me of Flippy swirled around in my mind, blocking out everything I was going to say.

His voice echoed around me as if it was coming from all directions, trying to break me in two. It was a struggle to keep myself standing upright. Only Petunia's arm kept me up. But she could do nothing to stop his voice, pounding against my skull.

"_I don't like it when people spread news about me, sweetheart. It usually ends up badly for them."_

I felt myself trembling, my nerves were scattered and I grab onto Petunia's other arm. I couldn't tell her. If I told Petunia, she'd tell someone and Flippy would find out. And then he'd kill both of us.

On impulse, I lie. "I-I was f-fired."

Petunia raises an eyebrow. "Really? You sound pretty worked up. What did you do?"

"I-I guess I j-just wasn't working w-well enough for th-their liking."

Petunia looked at me for a long moment as if she was about to send me away, but she just shrugs. "Okay then, you can stay here until you get a new job. I'll help you on your way. Now, first things first, let's get you out of those clothes."

I nodded shakily, and followed her inside, exhausted and paranoid. More images floated around in my head. I hardly noticed the interior of the house or how well-kept it was. Most of the furniture was simple and plain, and there were picture frames all along the halls and in every room. I never saw any pictures in Flippy's house.

The mere thought of Flippy's house sent chills down my back and I couldn't help shaking. Petunia didn't notice as she led the way into her room. It was spotless, as neat as could be. Her bed was in the middle; her blue covers didn't have a single crease on them. On two of the walls there were mirrors, one small and one full-body. I caught a look at my face and stopped with a gasp.

My eyes, which had always been wide, resembled dinner plates. They were the eyes of prey. My skin was ivory white, and I had purple-blue rings under my eyes. I looked like I'd seen a ghost. But, I'd seen something much worse than a ghost. I looked at my arms and found something I hadn't noticed before.

There was a long curve on my forearm, just a faint pink line. I wouldn't even have noticed it if I hadn't stopped to analyze myself. It started at my wrist and stopped halfway along my forearm. Someone's nail had dragged along my skin and had left me with a scar. I didn't even have to think who it was, I'd known as soon as I saw it. Flippy had scarred me both mentally and physically.

I whispered, "Oh, God."

And then I fell to the floor.

**A.N. Gah, I wanted this to be longer but... I don't know. What do you think? I've taken a long break from this, I know. Hope it was worth updating!**


	17. I Can't Stand You

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Chapter seventeen! All of a sudden I really wanted to continue this. So, yeah, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Also, TikTock, go ahead! You should link me to it when you're done! I'm honoured!**

_I was running through long, unlit corridors, completely alone and absolutely terrified. I could only see whatever was an arm's length away from me, which was no use at all in my situation. I continuously tripped over pieces of wood and various other unseen objects as I ran blindly. I didn't want to think about what they were. I couldn't afford to be distracted now. _

_I'd been running for hours upon hours, willing myself to stop and breathe, to rest my lungs. They burned, every muscle in my body was at its limit. I couldn't keep up this pace much longer without fainting. But my body wouldn't let me stop. My legs kept moving of their own accord. When I tripped, I would immediately pick myself up. It was torture; I was so exhausted. However, my fear greatly outweighed my _

_And all the while, there was another set of footsteps behind me, faster and lighter than my own. A sinister chuckle echoed against the walls, relentless and mocking. My pursuer knew this was all coming to an end. I was going to lose. I was going to die._

_And then I tripped again, with a yelp, and fell to the floor on my knees. I could feel his stare from above. I turned to look up, knowing that I would meet those eyes that had followed me everywhere. Those eyes that could only belong to one person. I knew already that I was doomed, that I would never see the light of day again. He lifted the knife up with a grin, and-_

"Aaaaaah!" I screamed, eyes flying open. I turned to look behind me and was surprised to find myself looking at a blue wall. I looked down and realized I was in someone else's bed. The sheets were a mess, tangled around my legs; the pillow I had been lying on had fallen to the floor. Petunia watched me carefully from where she sat at the end of the bed in blue pyjamas.

"Take it easy, Flaky," she said. "Bad dream?"

I nodded, and curled up into a sort of ball, hugging my knees against my chest and resting my chin on top of them. "Y-Yeah... A bad dream."

"I tried to wake you up a few times," Petunia told me. "You would just kick out and shout at me to leave you alone. Unless it was someone in your dream. It wasn't Flippy, was it?"

"A-Ah, no, no...Sorry, Petunia," I said quietly. "I'm just a little... out of it, I guess."

Petunia smiled sympathetically. "It's okay, really. You should have something to eat. I'll go make breakfast, okay? Don't you move."

I started to protest, but she put a finger to her lips and left me sitting there with my hand outstretched like a fool. I slumped back against the pillow and stared unhappily at the blankets, decorated with blue flowers.

Despite all that had happened, I still felt the urge to get up and clean. Not that Petunia's house was in any way dirty, but simply because I was so used to it now. I scowled.

"Not anymore, Flaky," I told myself. "No more cleaning."

And yet, even as I told myself I was done with that house, thoughts of it whizzed around my mind relentlessly. No matter how hard I tried to think of something else, the images refused to disappear. Flippy's face seemed like it had been glued to the inside of my eyelids. I couldn't ever escape his captivating stare.

Petunia returned with breakfast, toast and eggs. We ate in silence, neither looking up from her plate. After finishing, I decided to speak up at last.

"Petunia, could we go to town today?" I asked.

Petunia raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Already?"

"I don't think I want to keep wearing this uniform."

"Hm... Okay then. I know some good places."

Shopping with Petunia felt strange after being cooped up for so long. The streets were wide, and I was constantly throwing suspicious glances at people. Petunia, seeing my discomfort, led me into a shop lined with racks of clothing.

I barely paid attention to anything she said, just let her hold up clothes against me and examine prices. I nodded whenever I felt like I should, always wary of my surroundings. I glanced down at what Petunia had in her bag. Lots of red shirts and three pairs of jeans, as well as a few pairs of matching shoes.

I froze when I saw who was in front of us, leaving the store and walking in an awkward fashion. Giggles. There was no mistaking the large ribbon in her pink hair. I moved to tap her shoulder, and she whirled around.

"What..?"

Her eyes fell on me, and her face twisted into a disgusted look. I stopped myself from talking, and watched her, heartbroken.

"Giggles, I-"

"Don't come near me!" she interrupted, storming away. Petunia frowned.

"What's with her? She won't let it go?"

"I-I didn't want to go along with him, Petunia," I said. "I really d-didn't mean to hurt her."

"Sh," said Petunia, taking hold of my arms. "None of this is your fault. She just misunderstood the situation, is all."

I shook my head, and looked down at the ground. Petunia kept her hand on my arm and we walked home in silence. She left me alone to get changed into the clothes she bought. I pulled on a plain red shirt and black jeans.

I almost smacked myself for jumping at the sound of the doorbell. I heard Petunia go to answer it, and after a minute she was knocking on the bedroom door. I opened and she gave me an apologetic look.

"Ah, Flaky," she began. "This is a little awkward. My boyfriend just came over and I forgot we'd made plans for today. Do you mind if I leave for a little while? My mother's away with work but there's tons of food if you get hungry."

"N-No, it's fine," I assured her with a hasty smile.

"Here, you can come and say hi," she said, leading the way downstairs. Petunia's boyfriend was tall, with ginger hair and brown eyes. However, the first thing I noticed were his arms, which stopped just where his elbow would have been and tied up with bandages. He gave me a warm smile.

"I'm Handy," he said, with a dry laugh. "Ironic, right?"

"I'm Flaky," I said, and had to stop myself from moving to shake his hand. "Um, I'll talk to you sometime, then."

"Yeah, see you around!" he said, taking Petunia's arm. I watched them until they were out of sight and then shut the door. Not knowing what to do, I decided to take a look around at a real house. One where the people weren't corrupt or had split personalities. A normal home.

Instead of taking a look around, I ended up sitting on the couch and watching television for the first time. The news reports only sent bad thoughts whizzing through my head, but the other shows were enjoyable, if somewhat predictable.

After a while I got up and made some dinner, eating in silence that seemed to press down on me. By now, though, I was used to feeling uncomfortable and alone. I cleaned up afterwards and returned to the living room, curling up on the couch again.

I froze at the doorbell, then relaxed, again wanting to slap myself for being so silly. Petunia was back from her date, then. At last; it had been getting too lonely here by myself. I got up, ready to greet her. I just hoped she hadn't brought Handy. Nice as he was, I wanted to talk to Petunia in private.

I wasn't quite tall enough to see through the peephole. I opened the door hesitantly.

And screamed in terror.

"Wait!" Flippy called, but I was already halfway up the stairs. A million frantic thoughts race through my mind as I run.

_How?! How did he..?!_

"Please, Flaky! Listen to what I have to say!"

I locked myself in the bathroom, and finally felt the tears streaming down my face. I was breathing too fast, but there was no chance of me calming down now. Flippy was already up the stairs, pounding the bathroom door.

I knew one thing that might keep me safe for a while. If I stayed quiet, he couldn't switch to his psycho side. Even so, Flippy was still pretty strong.

I watched, traumatized, as the doorknob rattled, the lock straining. After what felt like an hour, it gave in and Flippy threw the door open.

"Oh God," I breathed. "L-Leave me a-alone, please! J-Just-!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured me. He moved to put his hands on my arms and I kicked out immediately, fighting against him and knowing it's useless.

"P-Please, just l-l-leave me alone!" I begged him, managing to push past into the hall. I ran to Petunia's room and slammed the door shut, despite it being useless at this stage. I looked around for anything I can use as a sort of weapon. I picked up a white chair and held it in front of me, waiting for Flippy.

He opened the door, and I felt myself freeze up completely. He had that demented look in his eyes. My worst nightmare stood before me grinning.

"You're in trouble," he said in a sing-song tone. "Little maids such as yourself shouldn't run off, you know. _Especially _when they're carrying valuable information like yourself. I do hope you haven't told anyone about my dear Mother, sweetheart. It'd just break my heart if I had to go to jail. My father wouldn't be too pleased either."

I couldn't stop myself from shaking; every fibre of my being was trembling with fear.

"I-I didn't t-tell anyone," I whispered. "I-I swear."

He gives me a smile that almost looks friendly, spreading his arms. "It's not too late to come back, dear. You can come back and we'll forget all this ever happened. And so long as you never mention my Mother to anyone, we'll be on good terms. We can carry on the way we did before. What do you say, sweetheart?"

I knew that I should. That I should take his hand and let him lead me back to his house. And much as I hated myself for it, I really was tempted to. But I couldn't. I couldn't give in and put myself through that torture. I couldn't take any more of it. So I tell him.

"I-I can't, F-Flippy," I told him. "I c-can't go b-back with you."

His smile vanished, all traces of kindness wiped away. "What? Why on earth wouldn't you want to?"

He took a step forward, and I instinctively moved back, bumping against Petunia's bed post. He waited impatiently for my answer.

"I-I can't s-stand any m-more of..." I trailed off, and looked at him worriedly.

"Of what?"

"...O-Of you, F-Flippy. I-I can't stand y-you."

**A.N. And I'm gonna stop right there! I hope you enjoyed it, I'm not sure I like it all that much. Tell me what you think!**


	18. Back Again

**My Life As A Maid**

**A.N. Hello everyone! I am back to working on this story again! I'm sorry I vanished for so long; there was a problem with my laptop and I had no way of writing or replying to some reviews, messages and the like. So, I hope you don't mind the huge gaps between updates and all. I will reply to anyone who I haven't been in touch with yet, and catch up with things, so no worries. Anyway, I'm rambling. Here we go, Chapter 18!**

Before I could blink, I was slammed back into the wall. I yelped, and froze when I felt steel pressing against my throat. It was barely there, but the cold blade sent chills down my spine and left me motionless. I looked to Flippy in terror, met his eyes and flinched.

He gazed back at me, his body tense and rigid. He didn't move, just watched and watched. I opened my mouth to apologise, and stopped when the blade was pressed a little harder down. I shut my eyes tight and whimpered shamelessly. I was more scared than I'd ever felt before, and all I could think to do was shake and cry like a baby.

"Can't stand me?" he whispered, baring teeth in an animal-like fashion. I tried turning my head a little, but changed my mind when the knife grazed my throat ever so lightly. I felt a small, warm stream slowly make its way down my neck.

"That's why you left," he said, his teeth flashing briefly with the light coming from Petunia's bedroom window. "That's why you ran away like the coward you are. Like a little child. Can't stand me."

He was growling the words at me, brow furrowed. There was a moment of agonizing silence before Flippy's face cleared. A small smile played about on his lips. He seemed to have decided to continue on.

"And yet, you still think of us, don't you, sweetheart?"

That one question sweeps away any other thought racing around my head at that moment. I looked at him warily and waited for what he would say next.

"No one who stays that long in our house could just forget us, you know," he went on. "Especially someone as paranoid as yourself. I bet you've thought about going back. Hm? Am I right in saying that?"

Much as I would love to tell him it wasn't true, he was right. I nodded shakily and he smiled, nodding too.

"That's what I thought." He tilted the knife a little and I tried backing up even further against the wall to avoid it. It proved futile; Flippy just followed, a delighted smirk forming on his pale face as he continued to watch me steadily. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a while, or eaten much for that matter. I couldn't help but wonder how much the real Flippy, his pleasurable side, had gotten out as of late. His twisted side seemed to have almost completely taken over.

"So why haven't you come back to us, dear?"Flippy asked, interrupting my thoughts with a sickeningly-sweet smile.

I paused in the act of opening my mouth to say something in response. I wasn't exactly sure of what to say. I felt as if I was walking barefoot along broken glass. And so far, my feet were soaked in blood. I had to tread carefully.

"I-I don't know," I answered honestly. Flippy said nothing, and I waited for him to respond, still shivering and trying in vain to hold still.

"You don't know?" he repeated. "Why, I thought you liked us. It's rather insulting of you to just leave us. We'd just gotten to know each other. Besides, we're best friends, remember?"

I whimpered again, trying not to cry. What had I done to end up with this maniac? I'd do it all over again if I could. I regretted ever stepping inside that house.

Where was Petunia? She should be-

"Flaky? Are you here?"

I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Flippy tensed up again and whipped his head to the source of the noise. Half a second later he was looking at me again.

"Don't you dare move a muscle," he whispered, eyes shining. I almost broke down just looking at him. "Unless I tell you to, you are not to make a sound. Make no attempt to leave this room. Got it?"

I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut and letting the tears stream freely down my cheeks. Flippy took the knife away but I still didn't move.

"Tell her you're home," Flippy ordered, still keeping his voice low. "Now."

"I-I'm home, Petunia," I called, hating myself for it. I turned my head away when she started up the stairs, oblivious to it all.

Flippy watched me from the corner of his eye, but his attention was all on the bedroom door. He glanced and me and said, "Tell her to give you a minute; that you're getting dressed or something."

I nodded, wide-eyed. "I-I'm just changing Petunia. H-Hold on a minute."

"Okay!" she called. "Hurry up, though. I want to see what they look like on you!"

Flippy took a slow step away, not making a sound as he did so. When he decided it was safe he backed away until he stood in front of me again. He took hold of my hair and turned me around, surprisingly gently.

Lifting it up again, I felt something scratch me. I suppressed a gasp. Again and again I was scratched, and then it stopped. Flippy let go of my hair and I turned around to face him, confused and afraid.

"Flaky!" Petunia called. "Come on! You're taking forever in there."

"Tell her to give you another minute; you're nearly done," said Flippy, turning towards the window.

"O-One minute," I called to Petunia, looking back to Flippy, opening the window as quietly as humanly possible. He swung one leg over the ledge and followed with the other. He looked over his shoulder, grinned and gave me a wave.

"By the way, sweetheart," he said. "Those clothes don't look as sophisticated as your uniform. Don't worry about that, though. I'm sure we'll sort everything out later. Ciao."

And with that, he pushed himself off the ledge and vanished.

I stood in silence, not sure what to do, really. I closed the window and had a quick look-around. He was nowhere in sight. He really _had _vanished. I opened the door to Petunia, who gasped.

"You look amazing!" she remarked. I managed a smile in return.

"Th-Thanks," I forced out. "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was great!" she said happily. "We went to the mall, just browsing really, and went for coffee. I haven't seen Handy in ages..."

I let her talk on, adding an "Oh" or "Really?" wherever I felt it was necessary. I was more bothered about the scratches on my neck and Flippy to even pretend I was interested in Petunia's date.

"...He was so romantic and sweet, I just-"

"S-Sorry, Petunia," I cut across her. "Do you mind if I go to the bathroom?"

"No worries," she said with a smile. "I'll go make supper."

"O-Okay, thanks..."

I left her and opened the bathroom door, shutting it quietly behind me. I went to the mirror and lifted my hair, turning so I could see the back of my neck. There, I was just able to read the words:

_You are mine_

I stumbled back and hit the bathtub, bracing a hand against it to stop myself toppling over. I raised a hand to brush the back of my neck, taking shuddering breaths. I looked at the other scar on my forearm and winced.

I was Flippy's. Now that I thought of it, I probably should have realized it before. Right from that first day. I was his to control, the toy he could rip to shreds in seconds. A plaything he could kick around and manipulate.

"Oh my God..." I whispered. It took a lot of effort to hold back the onslaught of emotions hurtling around my body.

I joined Petunia and saw her mother was back from work. We chatted briefly; I covered up the story of my time in Flippy's house surprisingly easily. Petunia's mother didn't pry, and I was grateful for it.

Petunia showed me to a guest bedroom I could use, and I changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas. The room was nice, with white walls and a wooden wardrobe. Petunia left me to sleep. I turned off the bedroom light but left the curtains open. I had never liked the dark much, and I appreciated the thin stream of moonlight that shone through the window. I lay down and looked up at the ceiling, hoping to drift off. The bed was comfortable, if at a considerable height from the ground. I kept as close to the wall as possible.

Sleep didn't come quickly. I constantly fidgeted, looking to each corner of the room. My gaze kept returning to the silhouette of the wardrobe. I paced around, tried to clear my head, I counted sheep, I counted anything I could think of and lost track every time.

After what felt like hours, I settled into a light sleep and lay still, breathing deep. Eventually, I began dreaming about my childhood, when everything had been okay, and I didn't have a care about anything; where the worst thing I had to worry about was losing a game of tag.

It was a nice dream. The sun shone down on me as I ran alongside Petunia. She was wearing a sky blue dress, and I a tattered red one. Our hair flew out behind us as we sped away from Lifty, Shifty and the other children of the area, laughing happily, so content.

* * *

><p>I sat up and looked around in bleary-eyed confusion. I'd expected to see the plain walls of the guest bedroom, or the wardrobe in the corner. I saw none of that.<p>

I peeled off a thin blanket and my feet met with the ground too soon. There was no bed-frame, just a mattress. A small chest of drawers rested next to me. And on top of it was a neatly folded uniform... With a red ribbon lying on top.

I was back.

**A.N. Ugh, I wrote this too quickly. I'm sorry if it sucks; I haven't written anything in a while... **

**Also, why do all of you want a happy ending? I have no idea, honestly. I thought a sad ending would have been nicer... **


	19. Facing Your Fears

**My Life As A Maid**

**A/N: So anyway, the next chapter of the story is here! Oh boy. I don't know what to do anymore. Hopefully I can make this interesting enough to entertain? I'll try my best. So, off we go with chapter nineteen!**

I didn't scream. I couldn't have if I'd wanted to. I was completely frozen, my brain numb. Nothing was functioning properly, _couldn't_ function properly. Nothing registered. I looked around at the all-too-familiar room again and had to bite a shaking fist to stop myself from crying out with terror.

This couldn't be happening. I refused to believe it. It was so unbelievable, so _impossible_. And yet, here I was in the house, where so many of my nightmares were brought to life. But how did I wind up here? There was no way I'd been kidnapped.

Right?

I shook my head, still in shock. I stood up, knees shaking uncontrollably. I moved slowly, slowly to the door, each second feeling like an hour. Time seemed to slow as I approached the door and reached out with a pale, trembling hand.

I closed my eyes and took a shuddering breath, and then twisted, waiting to come face-to-face with the butler, or Flippy's father, or Flippy himself. But... the door didn't open. It gave a stubborn click and nothing more. Not thinking and not knowing what else to do, I tried again, pulling on the door knob with as much strength as I could muster. Nothing. I was locked in.

"Oh God..." I breathed, fear taking hold. I could already feel tears by the time I reached the laundry chute and peeked up. I saw the familiar sight of Flippy's bedroom. No footsteps, though. Just eerie silence.

Trapped again.

* * *

><p>After a couple of hours I'd been pushed past the point of sanity. The waiting around was taking its toll. Fervent glances were thrown at the door, the laundry chute, and back again. My hands had become tangled in my hair multiple times and wouldn't stop trembling; my eyes felt as if they could fall from their sockets at any moment they were so wide, so terrified.<p>

'_Like the eyes of prey.'_

I was going to have a breakdown the next time I heard him in my head, the next time I saw those golden eyes interrupt my vision. I just couldn't stand the _waiting_. The need to know what was happening was eating at me from the inside out. But it didn't look like it would happen anytime soon.

I jumped when I heard a clunking sound, and turned to look at the door. Terrified by the thought of Flippy coming in, I stumbled back and pressed myself against the wall, opposite the door. After a minute of waiting, I decided I had nothing to lose and went for the door. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened the door.

After a few seconds of painful silence, I forced myself to open my eyes and look around. The house was the same as I remembered it, the long corridors. My eyes rested on what looked like a trail. Someone had spilled water on the floor. I followed the drops of water with my eyes and eventually ended up taking reluctant steps after them, following the makeshift guide.

After rounding one or two corners with my eyes trained on the water, I bumped into something familiar. A small cart, with various cleaning utensils on it. Resting on top of a sponge was a piece of paper with an arrow scrawled on it, pointing right, towards the kitchen. Someone had written, in clear, neat writing, on the top.

_This way, sweetheart._

I winced, and took the sheet, not knowing why, really. I analyzed what was going on in my head. It was obviously a trap; I was certain of that. The whole thing reeked of Flippy's wicked thoughts. I was being led into some horrible trap. No. He wouldn't have called it that. It was just... a game. Not even that. More than a game.

This was Flippy's master-plan. And I, of course, was the pawn, being led to impending disaster. It didn't look like there were any set rules either. Follow the directions; see where they bring you. Simple. Horrifyingly so.

I went right, as I'd been shown, looking for other hints that would lead me to my doom. I was surprised at myself for not going straight to the front door. But I had a suspicion that I wouldn't have been leaving anyway, not under Flippy's watch. He wouldn't let me go twice. I kept my gaze ahead and entered the kitchen.

That's when I screamed, clamping a hand over my mouth in shock to try and stop myself. But the sight that lay before me was truly devastating. I couldn't help but scream. What I was seeing was so awful I can hardly put it into words now.

Madame Talbot sat at the main table of the kitchen, facing a dish of potatoes and vegetables, with her apron and chef hat on her as usual. Only it wasn't quite that simple. The apron, which had always been stained with grease or juice, was now soaked red with blood, spilling from a gash in her neck. Her eyes were glazed over, unseeing; her limbs were limp.

Feeling sick, I took hesitant steps toward the table. I cringed when I saw the second sheet of paper in the broad woman's hand. I took it from her carefully, tears already starting to flow. I read it, feeling horrible.

_Eat up, dear, and head back down the corridor._

I looked at the food on the plate anxiously. I was starving as I hadn't eaten since... when? I didn't even know whether it was night or day. Tempted as I was, I just couldn't bring myself to eat it. I looked at the chef, staring at nothing. Uncomfortable, I felt the need to close her eyes. With a shudder, I turned away from Madame Talbot and began walking down the main corridor, where the living room and dining hall were.

At the end of the hall, in front of the door leading to the dining hall, there was another note sitting on a table. I picked it up, preparing myself on the inside.

_Our butler has something for you in the dining hall. Take a look._

I opened the door, the cold knob twisting with a 'clunk' to welcome me. I took a breath and opened my eyes.

Jerome, the old and loyal butler, sat at the end of the dining hall table. Dishes laden with fruit, fish, bread and more than enough food to feed an army were laid out neatly in front of him. Gingerly, I made my way forward. I could already see blood staining his white shirt but I knew there had to be something else, so I kept pushing forward until I stood next to him.

Forcing my eyes open again, I cringed at what I saw. Jerome's hair looked as if it had been torn out by the roots. It lay scattered around the table and the carpet beneath him. But it wasn't the lack of hair that made me flinch. It was the jagged scars that served as a replacement. I stepped around to look at his face and saw that it, too, was ravaged with nasty-looking cuts. And, not to my surprise, I saw the bloody mess that spilled from his neck. His eyes were open, too. Out of respect for him, I closed them for him, feeling sorry.

I looked toward the table and saw the familiar sheet waiting for me. On top of it, though, was a green pickle. Next to it was a dark pink ribbon. Lammy and Giggles. I held back my emotions and took the sheet of paper.

_Take something to eat if you want. It's not going to be used anytime soon. Your monthly cheque is waiting in my father's study. Go pick it up and we'll continue._

Knowing already it was a bad idea, I took the note and started in that direction. By the time I reached the door I was cursing myself for ever taking the job, for signing up, even. It was most definitely the biggest regret of my life, and I would have done anything at that moment to take everything back and start again.

I opened the heavy wooden door, my eyes shut, fearing what I would see. After taking a few steps I decided I had to go on with Flippy's game and end this. But I was quick to learn that opening my eyes was in fact the worst decision I'd made all day.

Flippy's father sat in his large chair in front of his desk, as always. Only he wasn't staring at paperwork or frowning at nothing in particular. In fact he wasn't looking at anything at all, even if he'd wanted to. Because his eyes had been gouged out. Streams of blood had dried along his cheeks, looking like tearstains. It wasn't the only blood that had been spilled. Through the tears in his shirt I could see where nails had been dragged along his chest. A long gash was, unsurprisingly, cut into his neck, staining his suit.

The urge to vomit was overwhelming, but there was nothing inside me that could be brought up, thankfully. Instead I was forced to let out a choked sound of disgust and fright. I'd never had much conversation with this man, and he had always been a little cold towards others. But the thought of him being murdered by his own son sent a surge of pity shooting through me.

In each of his bloodied hands was a sheet of paper. I walked over, my eyes burning with tears that wouldn't come. In his left was a sheet, which I turned from for now. In the other was a cheque. I prised it from his fingers and held it up with shakings hands to read. My name was written neatly in the left-hand corner, and I could only stare in shock when I saw my 'reward'.

_Due to unsatisfactory behaviour and attendance, Flaky will remain with us until the day she dies. Have fun, darling._

I gasped, and tore the page without thinking twice. Then I tore it again. And once more. I let the pieces flutter to the ground with the other sheets I'd been holding while I snatched the sheet from Flippy's father's hand. I read it, my eyes wavering slightly.

_I'm waiting on the top floor for you, sweetheart. We'll have some fun. Don't keep me waiting._

"I won't," I snarled, clenching my fist and crumpling the paper. "I won't."

Suddenly I was furious, absolutely filled to the brim with pure rage. And it wasn't self-hatred. I wasn't blaming myself now. I was angry with Flippy, for all the pain and trouble he'd cause. I forgot about the story of his past, and his mother; and anything else that had made him seem likeable. I directed all my rage towards him and made haste. Not wasting any more time worrying and panicking, I started up the nearest flight of stairs that would take me to the top floor.

I found myself running, sprinting, only realizing when I stopped on the second last floor to catch my breath and steady myself. That's when fear slowly made its return, replacing the anger that had spurred my adrenaline rush. But I couldn't stop now. Not when I was so close to getting revenge on Flippy, for myself and all the other people he'd hurt.

I forced myself up the last ten steps, trying to remain composure, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm myself down. It wasn't working. Definitely not. In fact, it was only making things worse. The false illusion of being mad, of having power, was fading rapidly. Already I could feel my knees beginning to shake. I could sense the goose-bumps rising along my arms as I took the last step towards my worst nightmare.

And as I opened my eyes, I knew this was a bad, bad idea. I knew that everything I'd done since my Mother's death was all one huge, terrible mistake. I wasn't meant for this. Someone else should have been making the journey up the stairs, not me.

Because who was I?

I was Flaky. The poor, frightened maid who was about to be killed by someone who had tormented and confused her from the day she met him. And she _pitied_ him. And that was the saddest part of all. There was nothing I could do. And this was all a waste.

So when I looked at Flippy standing in front of me, his shiny, shiny eyes unmoving, his dagger-like teeth curving up into a smile, and carrying a bloodied knife in his hand, I knew it was over.

**A/N: Woot. What was that? My gosh. Sorry for that sorry excuse of a chapter. Bit of a letdown in my opinion. Anyway, last chapter until the ending, and then the alternate one. So until then, please tell me what you thought! **


	20. The End

**My Life As A Maid**

**A/N: Last chapter... sort of! This will be the ending most of you wanted. I'm sorry if it sucks. I wanted to make the story end sadly. But lots of you wanted to see a happy ending. I'll try and make this as good as possible. As always, enjoy!**

I froze as soon as I saw that smile, _felt_ it. Flippy gave me a low chuckle, his eyes gleaming with delight. The look passing between us sent shivers up and down my spine, rooting me to the spot, paralyzed with fear. I waited for Flippy to do or say something. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours.

"Well, well, well," he said, sweeping his arms in a broad gesture. I watched the knife warily as it glinted under the light-bulb hanging over us. My eyes flickered to the window, and I saw it was already quite dark outside. I frowned. I'd been sure it was only around noon.

As if reading my mind, Flippy explained. "You were out for a while, dear. I don't know how you didn't wake up with all the shuffling about that had to be done. Jumping from two floors carrying you was risky enough." After a dark chuckle, he grinned and said, "I'm surprised you made it this far at all."

I didn't say anything, just puzzled it all out in my head. Flippy had knocked me out to keep me from waking, and jumped from the bedroom window with me. So it seemed I'd been out for longer than I'd thought.

Flippy's eyes wandered about and came to a stop, fixating on a loose strand of hair. He stared for a few seconds, his expression unreadable and I tried not to squirm under his gaze. Even when he wasn't staring directly at me I was still petrified.

"You've obviously found all the notes, then," he said softly. His eyes flickered to mine for some sort of response, and I managed a jerky nod in return.

"It was a real pain killing them," Flippy remarked, half to himself. He grinned slyly. "Madame Talbot wasn't too difficult. A woman of her size, she's not the fastest. Though carrying her was a whole other story."

I winced at that, imagining the scene playing out in my head. Madame Talbot would have been defenceless against Flippy. She'd never liked me, and the feeling had been generally mutual, but I couldn't help feeling a pang of pity for her.

"I'll admit that Jerome put up quite a fight for an old man," Flippy said with a smirk. "But I shut him up pretty quickly. Carrying him was a little awkward, but as you saw, I got the job done."

He gave me a cold laugh, looking like a misbehaving child who was not sorry for what he'd done.

"My father barely saw me coming. The fat lump was sitting in his chair like always, not giving a damn about anyone," Flippy scowled. Then he smiled and said, "It was easy work though, really. So long as you're not squeamish."

He took a step forward as if to reach for me, and I had to stop myself from taking one backward. The staircase was right behind me. If I took one step I was done for. Though, maybe that was a better way to go, rather than what was coming for me. What was better: wait for Flippy to slice me up or just end it now? Before I knew what I was doing, I was already moving back to push myself off.

I almost started crying out of desperation when I realized Flippy had caught my right wrist and was holding me up effortlessly. I stood with one foot still on the floor and one on its way down; trapped. His eyes bored into mine for what felt like hours, simply staring. I did my best to keep eye contact, however hard it was. Dehydration and hunger were tough enough without Flippy's presence. He never seemed to blink, and it was an effort for me to keep my eyes open.

Just when I thought my eyes were going to fall out of their sockets, he pulled me forward and pushed me to the side. I stumbled out of his reach and gave a frustrated sigh when my back hit the wall. Flippy turned to me, smiling again.

"And now, dear, you're all that's left," he noted. I said nothing, but did my best to keep my head up, if warily so. My eyes kept drifting to the knife he twirled casually, almost gracefully, between his thin fingers.

"You want to know why you're last?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer he continued on. "I like saving the best for last. That, and you've caused me the most trouble."

I stared at him, almost disbelieving. How could I have gotten him into trouble? Everything he'd done was his own decisions, not _mine_. As if reading my mind, he smirked and continued.

"Because of you and your whining, and your complaining, and moaning and _crying_, I was almost sent to a 'home', their way of sugar-coating 'mental asylum for the criminally insane'. Can you believe it?"

I could happily believe it. It was quite a lovely thought, actually. Having Flippy guarded, unable to harm anyone, was a comforting thought. Never again seeing him able to torment anyone else, not being able to leave the confines of an asylum. So long as he was watched at all times, Flippy would never be a problem for anyone again.

However, it was also a very unsettling thought. For some odd reason I couldn't quite make out, I didn't like the thought of him locked up. I mean, Flippy wasn't _always_ bad, right? Just sometimes... When he wasn't gone completely psycho, Flippy was friendly and quite sociable. He wasn't just the sadistic weirdo, not always...

One look at him changed my mind again.

"And so, in order to prevent further... _delay_, I took care of them. The only problem now is for me to find a place to go before others start getting suspicious about my father's absence."

Despite myself, I asked, "Wh-What about Jerome a-and Madame Talbot?"

Flippy smirked, closing his eyes briefly. "Haven't you realized, dear, that everyone who works in this house is a nobody?"

I hadn't. I thought it had just been me. Poor Flaky from the desolate countryside outside of Happy Tree Town who had nowhere to go. I was definitely nobody; I doubted I even had any sort of files or records for medication or anything else. I was invisible.

"Jerome and Madame Talbot are gone from the world now," said Flippy. "But Madame Talbot used to be quite well known. She once was the owner of several successful restaurants around Happy Tree Town and became very wealthy for a brief amount of time. However when three of her establishments were broken into within the space of five days, she lost a lot of her precious money. She couldn't get money from insurance since they thought she was faking the break-ins. And so she ended up coming here to redeem herself after her company descended steadily into bankruptcy."

My eyes widened in surprise. I'd never have thought that about Madame Talbot. It didn't seem right after spending so long thinking she was 'just another person'.

"As for Jerome, he was like my father, a businessman with no room for other people. But after a while, his company became less productive. Their ideas grew more and more unoriginal as time went on and no money was being made. He did consider firing a few workers but was quick to realize he couldn't run a business by himself alone. So, miserable and depressed, my father offered him a job here. And now, thirty years later, he's finished.

"But no files remain, there's no information about the two anymore. If you ever asked someone about either of them, that person wouldn't have a clue as to who you were talking about. Someone might recall a chef in the middle of town, but all they would really be able to describe would be the shutting down of the restaurant. Some might remember a successful business man responsible for the creation of many wonderful companies, but no more than that."

I stared at him with raised eyebrows, my lips parted. He gave me a cold smirk.

"Even you, Flaky. Besides your precious friend Petunia and myself nobody actually knows who you are. Your childhood friends, maybe, but when will you see them again? So even if you survive this, which I seriously doubt is going to happen, I'll just have to find Petunia and you'll be alone. No one can help you anymore."

He lifted the knife, inspecting it, before turning to me with a sickening grin. "Time to say goodbye, sweetheart. It's been fun."

I instinctively moved back but panicked when I realized I couldn't. Frantic, I dived to the side and rolled away from Flippy. He twisted, following my movements with an amused smirk. Terrified, I scrambled to my feet. Halfway up, I was grabbed and pinned to the nearest wall. Flippy pressed his forearm lightly to my neck, millimetres away from cutting off my oxygen. The knife was held at a distance, pointing towards my left eye.

I waited for a sudden movement, a sneaky comment, but none came. I braced myself and looked Flippy straight in the eye. I saw he was debating with himself. His better half was trying to gain control. His gold eyes seemed dimmer, less menacing. My eyes flickered to a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. He was drained emotionally, and now physical effects were taking hold. The hand holding the knife was raised, but wavered in the act of being thrust forward.

"Agh... I..."

Flippy's voice was strained, his breathing ragged. He took a shuddering breath and seemed to reach a conclusion. He lifted the knife and the brightness returned to his eyes. As it came toward me I screamed, completely unashamed, and so loudly I shocked myself.

Tormented, I urged the knife to come down swiftly, to be quick in ending my life. But it never came down to meet me. My eyes were squeezed shut, my lips pressed firmly together, but I heard Flippy's low moans of distress. I felt him loosen his grip. I'd only realized how numb my shoulder felt after being held so tightly.

But my attention was focused on the distraught creature before me. The sight of Flippy fighting this war with himself was like nothing I'd ever seen. He was hunched over with his thin fingers tangled in his hair, the knife cast aside. His eyes were like saucers, his lip curled back into a sort of snarl. Watching him, I almost pitied him. I felt sorry for the man who had been just about to kill me.

_Why?!_

What on earth was my problem? What had I done to be linked to this wretch of a teen?

"I..." Flippy was struggling to speak now, and tears openly streamed down the sides of his face. Unsure of what I should do, I took a hesitant step forward, but stopped immediately when Flippy flung his arm out to stop me from advancing.

"Don't," he choked out. He glared up at me from under the hair plastered to his forehead. "I... don't want your pity. You... You are responsible for me weakening. You and your _goodness_ and your fucking _kindness_. And now I'll vanish and you'll save the day, hm? Just the way it should be. Typical, typical. The good guys win and the bad ones lose. Always, _always_, ALWAYS!"

He stood up shakily but swiftly and I backed away, horrified. For a moment the murderous look in his eyes almost paralyzed me. But, to my relief, I saw a change slowly taking place. As he tried to step forward, Flippy's sharp teeth had returned to normal. When he attempted to move in the direction of his knife, his eyes no longer shone with malice, only with the tears he had shed. He was back to his normal self.

"Flippy, are you-?"

I was cut off by Flippy's startled yelp. He sounded as if he'd been hit by something. But he was just staring at me, with a look of desperation and confusion. His eyes drifted to the knife and he stiffened.

"Oh God..." he breathed, then looked frantically back to me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he was faster. He covered the distance between us in a split second and grabbed my shoulders, unable to contain himself.

Looking me over, he found the slight indentation where the knife had been pressed to my neck.

"Flippy, it's not-"

"Oh my God," he interrupted, his voice panicky. "Oh God, oh I'm so sorry. Oh please don't hate me, I-!"

"Flippy!" I cut him off. "I..."

I don't know what it was, whatever I'd been about to say. I just needed him to calm down so I could think. I looked him square in the eyes. My once-frightened eyes, now confident, met his wide ones, no longer shining. All the light was gone from them.

"F-Flaky?" he whispered. I shook my head, silencing him. I was still trying to think of something I could say to stop his hopeless thinking. I couldn't say, 'It's okay, I'm fine.' I wasn't fine. I don't think I would ever be fine again after all I'd been through recently.

And Flippy would never be alright again. His split personality was a huge problem for himself and everyone around him. After all he'd done as of late, all the killing and troublemaking, nothing would ever be completely fine for him. He would always have those memories, he would still have to see the corpses of those he had killed.

But I could comfort him. It might not work but it was my only hope, now. The two of us were past the point of sanity, past the point of thinking things through before doing them. It was much too late for anything like that. There had to be something I could say, though. _Anything_.

Because, despite everything, I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I was a little bit in love with him. That's when I realized it wasn't a matter of saying something. There were other ways of communicating without speaking.

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around Flippy's thin waist, resting my chin on his shoulder. I heard a shocked gasp from Flippy but I didn't let go. Eventually, just when I thought I'd really done something awful, I felt a pair of arms cross around my back, shaky but holding on tight.

We stood in silence for an infinity. Time seemed still and at the same time it flew past. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Flippy smelled like a mixture of mint, greenery and some sort of spice all at once. It was quite pleasant.

At the same time, he ran his hand along the length of my hair while holding on to me with the other, still numb. His fingers got tangled in the long strands but he didn't move to take his hand away.

"Flaky," he breathed. I lifted my head to look at him. No longer frozen, he was looking at me with an odd combination of admiration and puzzlement.

"Flaky, I... I can't hear him."

I raised my eyebrows and took my arms away from him, giving him a bit of space. "What do you mean?"

Flippy lifted a hand to his forehead and pushed his hair back, then left his hand there, closing his eyes. After a while he shook his head and opened his eyes.

"Flaky. I think he's... gone. I think it's finally all over."

I gasped, and then smiled. Flippy, stunned, managed a breathy laugh that sounded odd at first.

"I can't believe it," he said, still shaking. He looked at me with the utmost happiness and I couldn't help laughing.

"It was you," he said, delighted. "You were the cure all along, Flaky. Oh, thank you!"

And in one swift motion, he moved forward and pressed his lips to mine. Shocked, I watched a tear make its way down his jaw line. I kissed him back just as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window. We looked towards the light, both smiling.

"I think," said Flippy. "... I think I can try to start again. And be a better person. I... I'll try. But I don't know where to start."

"I think I do."

* * *

><p>The first thing we did was go to the body of Flippy's mother. I watched from the doorway as he knelt down with a forlorn expression and took her hand.<p>

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for everything. For being disobedient, and for... for ending you."

Just when I thought he would cry, I took him by the hand and led him out of the room. We moved downstairs to the kitchen, where Madame Talbot was seated. Flippy didn't take her hand, he bent down and looked solemnly at the large woman.

"I'm very sorry, Madame."

Next was Jerome. Flippy brushed past all the dishes laid out on the table, which were beginning to give of a smell, and took Jerome by the shoulders. This time I saw tears in his eyes.

"Jerome," he breathed. "I'm sorry. You were so good to me, and I was ungrateful in return. I'm so, so very sorry."

I took him to where his father sat at his desk. Flippy, a hand over his mouth, moved towards the large desk.

"Oh my God," he whispered, no longer trying to hold back tears. "I'm sorry, father. I'm sorry. I've destroyed you."

He left the room with his head down and I shut the door quietly. Flippy turned to me with devastated eyes.

"And you, Flaky," he said. "I don't know what I can say that will make you forgive me. You deserve much more than this. For that, I want you to have a fresh start and a new life. You can leave here and it will be like you never set foot in this goddamned house."

I shook my head. "I don't want that. I don't want to pretend I never met you. I like you, Flippy. It wasn't you that hurt me. You've never said anything cruel to me. My life wouldn't be the same without you in it. So, come with me."

He raised his eyebrows. "A-Are you serious?"

I smiled. "Of course I'm sure. We can leave the town and no-one will know. We won't tell anyone where we go. And we'll live together and be happy from now on. No one will stop us."

Flippy, happier now than ever before, took me in his arms and held me close. "I promise I will never let anything hurt you ever again. I promise."

I laid my chin on his shoulder again, tears springing to my eyes. I didn't stop them from coming. I clutched him tightly, unwilling to let go.

"I believe you," I whispered.

**A/N: And in that moment, I swear we were infinite! But yes. This is the end my dear friends. So, imagine whatever you want for the porcupine and her bear. Do they live happily together? If that's what you want. Do they get gunned down in the desert? If you like it, then sure. **

**I'm going to sound totally soppy here, and if the story wasn't soppy enough this will more than make up for it. **

**I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Thank you to every single person who has reviewed, favourited and subscribed to this story. I don't even think i had a solid plot for it, honestly, and yet you still claimed to love it. But thank you for anyone who suggested ideas and gave me encouragement and inspiration to finish the story. I feel like I received undeserved appreciation for writing this, when any of you could have done an even better job with it. Honestly. I do think I've improved somewhat while writing the story, though. So thank you for inspiring me!**

**Also, some people messaged me about writing a fanfic of this one?! Is that even possible? Fanception. But if any of you crazy people are that devoted (if you are, I would recommend a hospital...) then go ahead and send them to me! It'll give me a reason to love you guys even more.**

**But this is not the end! If you are interested I will be posting an alternate ending to the story at some point! Hopefully you'll like it? If not you can be content with this one, I guess.**

**So, this is ButterflyBabyBlue signing off!**


	21. Bad News

Hey, guys.

I have a bit of bad news for you, I'm really really sorry about this. The thing is, after writing the happy ending for My Life As A Maid, I just can't bring myself to write the sad one. I know that's really pathetic but I just have no motivation or inspiration. I feel like anything I do will be tacky and unoriginal.

So, I'm really sorry if I've disappointed you but, please, respect my decision.


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